On Tattered Wings (HIATUS)
by support velkoz
Summary: Once upon a time in a land far, far away where beings we call 'angels' reign, there lived two sisters who were very close to each other. One was named Kayle- the other, Morgana. One would one day become a stalwart Judicator. The other- a Mistress of the Black Arts. But there was a time when they were family. A time before Morgana's descent. Artwork by Ragamuffyn :)
1. Chapter 1: Dummies

Chapter 1: Dummies

'Hya!', the young angel grunted with effort as she swung her broadsword at a target dummy. The blade lodged itself in the dummy's collarbone and stayed there, refusing its wielder's vain attempt to jerk it free.

Morgana grimaced in frustration as she eyed her weapon disdainfully. _So large and clumsy_ , she thought, _and I'm supposed to fight with this?_ Another swing. Another _thud._

With all the might she could muster in her little frame she pulled the sword free. It arced backwards, carried more by its own weight and gravity than by Morgana's effort, and clipped the young angel on the wing. Morgana cried out in pain, then bit her lips to hold back an exasperated groan. _Stupid sword_ , she thought, not caring about the nick she had just received.

Around her other trainees were also stabbing at other dummies with varying degrees of proficiency while at the far end of the court yard a grown-up angel stood, pursing his lips. At his side, Kayle watched the fledglings with idle amusement. As her eyes came to fall upon her sister, however, she frowned.

'My sister wields her arms as a troll would his club', she sighed, 'I apologize for her incompetence, Justicar Michael.'

'There is time…', her mentor smiled, not really knowing what to say, '…she will improve.'

Even as he said that both of them saw Morgana hefted her sword and cleaved it in a mighty arc in the target direction of the dummy. It would have been an impressive strike had it found its mark. As it turned out, Morgana missed by miles and she spun a full circle on her feet, carried by the weight of her weapon. Kayle winced, despite herself, as she appraised her sister. Truly a sorry sight…

'Yes, Justicar…', Kayle trailed off, brows furrowed, eyes on the extremely flushed visage of her sister stomping towards them as she dragged her sword by the hilt.

'I'm done!', the young angel exclaimed, bristling visibly. 'With all due respect Justicar Michael, I fail to comprehend why I must be made to practice with this…'- Morgana gestured to her sword-'…thing.'

Justicar Michael pursed his lips as he began searching for things to say. Morgana stared at her sister with a beseeching look, perhaps hoping that somehow her sister would take her side and jump to her defense. _Then they might finally let me train with magic openly for once…_ , she thought.

'Everyone does it. Not just you, sister', Kayle instead interjected. Before Justicar Michael could speak, the impetuous young angel burst forth with a barrage of heated words.

'But it is not efficient! See, magic can do it much better!', Morgana defiantly yelled as she dropped her broadsword and raised both arms at a dummy that another boy was slashing at nearby as a look of fierce concentration gathered on her face. She extended her fingers and began closing her fists in a claw like way.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly at first but quickly becoming apparent, the very structure of the dummy began to collapse inwards as if crushed by an invisible hand, drawing a yelp of surprise from its current user. Other trainees nearby stopped their practice and gawked at the scene as Morgana began sweating profusely.

Kayle cast one furtive glance after another at Justicar Michael to see what his reaction was. But the older angel was just passively watching, his eyes flickering between the dummy, Morgana, and the little trail of blood on Morgana's wing.

'Enough!', Justicar Michael commanded. Yet Morgana continued as the dummy's self-collapse went on.

'Morgana!', Kayle intervened, slapping her sister's arm down and breaking her focus.

'What!?', Morgana scowled at her sister. However, she blanched as Justicar Michael stepped forward to stand right next to her. There was a very stern look on his face.

'Your magic is effective, yes', Justicar Michael said, as his eyes appraised the little rebel before him. 'But Sefiro magic is used to first and foremost heal…', he gestured and instantly Morgana's right wing was bathed in green, healing light.

Kayle gasped and reached out a hand, tentatively placing it on Morgana's shoulder. She had not even noticed her sister's injury- now a barely visible pinkish little scar- but for a little trail of dried blood that had stained the young angel's white wings. As she noticed that all eyes in the training ground were riveted onto their backs, however, she quickly withdrew her hand. Her cheeks began to burn.

'…but rarely…', Justicar Michael continued as he turned to face Morgana, '… if ever, to destroy.'

With that he used his other hand to turn Morgana's target dummy to dust in a single motion with the balling of his hand into a fist. The fine dust mixed with the sand on the training ground of the court yard. Soon, there was no trace that the dummy had ever even existed.

'Is that understood?', he asked the now meek young angel.

'Y-yes, Justicar', Morgana muttered, her voice little more than a whisper, 'I understand.'

At his side, Kayle hung her head in shame. _Every single time…_ she thought.

(break)

 _The next day…_

Morgana sighed as she settled into the comfortable embrace of her favorite person in the world, turning her body slightly so that she could fold her wings off to the side so it would not get in the way. Said person wordlessly pulled Morgana closer and began stroking her hair, causing the latter to purr with happiness.

Kayle let her gaze wander to the clouds above. She thought she saw an angel holding a blazing sword, however closer inspection revealed it to be something more like a pig riding on a barrel with upturned paws. Absentmindedly, Kayle continued stroking her sister's blonde locks.

'Bring me the apple, dear', she idly requested.

Morgana's closed eyes fluttered open. Above them, obscured by several branches such that it was barely visible, was a ripe apple that looked to be about 9 feet off the ground. She squinted at it and focused her energies.

An outstretched hand. A flick of the wrist. A slight, playful _oof!_ as the apple fell on Kayle's head, then bounced off it and rolled onto Morgana's chest where it finally came to rest on the relatively flat surface.

'Dinner is served!', Morgana exclaimed with mock glee as she arched her back to bring the apple closer to her sister's lips. Kayle reached for the apple, or so Morgana thought, but her fingers went beyond it and instead began traversing up Morgana's neck to her earlobes and then down to her collarbone where they began tickling her mercilessly.

'Augh!', she exclaimed out of surprise, 'stop!'

In a futile attempt, Morgana began to wriggle and writhe to try and get away from the assault. Alas, her physical capabilities were lousy at best and the young angel had no chance in heaven of out-muscling her much fitter sister. She could only squeal as her struggles proved useless and her eldest continued tickling her.

'…Kayle…please…', Morgana gasped, doubling over and tucking her chin in to attempt and hide her vulnerable spots, 'o mighty Justicar' *pant* 'I surrender to thee.' *pant* 'Please let me gooooooo!', she yelped as Kayle's hand accidentally brushed her chest.

With a good hearted laugh Kayle let her sister go at last and leaned fully back against the apple tree, her folded wings providing a sort of fluffy cushion on which for her to rest. Morgana rolled away like a sushi roll, attempting to catch her breath as she then sat up.

'What do you think Mom will cook tonight?', Morgana asked, then before Kayle could muster an answer, continued, 'those veggies of hers again? Eww… I just wished she would not turn us all into veggie-chomping lambs and feed us more meat for once…'

Kayle thought of correcting her sister, then stopped as she recalled how past attempts had gone and sighed, choosing instead to let herself get lost in the tranquility of it all and just chill.

Companionable silence fell over them like a veil and the two shared a smile, though Morgana still kept a wary little distance from her sister. Deep down, she hated tickles. _No,_ Morgana paused in her thoughts, _I love them. But only when Kayle is tickling me…_

Sounds of clashing swords carried on the wind reached them from the arena a distance away. In the fields before them, lazy lambs frolicked. Chirping birds punctuated the otherwise serene atmosphere with their cheerful sounds every now and then while fluffy white clouds drifted by above. Morgana let herself be carried away in the peace as her eyes slowly fell closed.

'Hey sis…', Kayle sighed, eyes on the horizon.

'Mhmmm…?'

'…about yesterday…', Kayle hesitated, wondering how she should proceed.

Morgana's eyes narrowed, anticipating what was to come. _Damn Justicars, damn swords and damn this training, I swear to God if she says one w-_

'…your powers were impressive…', she finally said, giving her sister an encouraging smile.

Surprised, Morgana looked at her sister. The reprimand she had braced for never came. There was no trace of accusations, no stern looks leveled at her. Coupled with the smile that was being positively beamed at her, it was almost as if Kayle was… praising her?

Confused, Morgana kept mum. The clouds proved a satisfactory distraction as she tried to sort out her thoughts.

Usually, Kayle took every of Morgana's mistakes as her own and in the past it had not been uncommon for Morgana to have to sit through what felt like hours of berating. At times it felt like Kayle was just trying to take control of Morgana's whole life. Stealing a glance at her sister, Morgana noticed she was still being stared intently at.

After a while, Kayle looked away.

'But… but I thought I embarrassed you…?', Morgana questioned haltingly, '…right?'

'…yeah.'

Something in her young mind clicked.

Wordlessly, Morgana crawled her way back into her sister's lap. Looking upwards, she met a benevolent gaze. They smiled at each other and the both of them breathed a contented sigh as they shared and basked in what could only be described as glorious, beautiful sisterly love. Morgana settled into a familiar, comfortable position in her sister's lap and cast her gaze out far, far away. Above and beyond on the infinite sky, she thought she saw in a cloud formation an angel wielding a blazing sword. _A Justicar…?_

'Thanks, sis…', she finally muttered. At long last, sleep rose to claim her and she willingly let herself fall into its embrace.

Morgana was at peace.

(break)

 _The next day…_

Asri absentmindedly played with her hair, out of her students' sight, as she leaned against one of the gigantic marble pillars that made up the entrance of the Institute. Idly she noticed the throngs of acolytes and apprentices streaming past her. It was dismissal time after all, and seeing so many excited fledglings was common. However, she was looking out for a particular blonde-haired little angel…

(break)

 _Moments later…_

'What I don't really understand is why I need to swing my arms like this you know?', Morgana piqued, somewhat confused, 'what did you say it was again… the window wiping motion…?'

Asri sighed as she stepped in front of Morgana again to show her the move.

'Yes, dear… You need to swing your arms to generate momentum in addition to the twisting of your hips…', she motioned as she entered the fighting stance, took one step forward and swung her right arm upwards in an upward-rising block.

'…It also blocks any counter punches opponents might throw, since at the initial phase of kicking you drop your guard to generate momentum and this leaves you vulnerable.'

Completing the motion, Asri brought her arms up and down rapidly as she advanced one pace and delivered a devastating roundhouse kick to an imaginary opponent's ribs. Retracting her leg gracefully, Asri inhaled and smiled as she turned to her eager disciple.

'Do you unders-'

'…'

'Morgana…?'

'What?! Wait! Yes!', Morgana yelped, suddenly awakened from her little stand-up nap, '…oh, Instructor Asri…'

Asri folded her arms across her chest and gazed sternly at Morgana.

'…'

What have you got to say for yourself this time?'

'Uhh…', Morgana muttered meekly, '…sorry?'. She offered with a sheepish smile.

Asri sighed, however, she couldn't help but smile back. Morgana was, after all, her most favorite student. She could barely help but feel funny inside, in a good way, whenever _her_ little angel beamed at her.

'You have bags under your eyes', Asri paused, curiosity peeking on her face, 'did you not sleep well last night?', she asked.

(break)

 _The night before…_

'It was the veggies again', Kayle drawled as she picked at what little non-existent dirt there was beneath her immaculately short and well-groomed nails. 'You were right.'

The girl did not croon victoriously- she did not have the energy for it.

'Yeh…', Morgana mumbled. Her eyes twitched as she struggled to hold back a yawn. Moonbeams filtered in, brilliant shafts of light piercing the darkness of the sisters' unlit room through the open windows. A soft breeze was blowing, making leaves rustle outside. Fall was coming soon- Kayle could almost taste the beginning of it in the air.

It was a long while before Morgana spoke again and Kayle was almost beginning to wonder if her sister had fallen asleep.

'…hey.', Kayle nudged her sister, '…ya there Ana?'

For one brief moment Morgana wondered what in heaven she was doing staying awake, for it was well past midnight. As the fog of sleep lifted from her mind for a second she remembered. They had talked for hours by the window sills, a favorite past time of the sisters. She must have inadvertently fallen asleep at some point.

'…Ana…?', she mumbled sleepily. 'Oh.'

Ana was Morgana's nickname that her sister had made up for her a few years ago when Morgana was just seven. At some point in the distant past someone, probably their parents, had tried shortening her name to a term of endearment that was 'Morg', but that did not stick and anyways 'Ana' sounded much nicer to the ears. And thus Morgana simply became known as Ana to her family and little circle of close friends.

'I'm here.'

Kayle waited patiently as she continued her window-gazing. Mostly at the star-clustered sky, though. It was pretty much pitch black outside-the moon had hidden itself somewhere at that moment and only the shady, jagged outlines of the Dark Mountains were visible beyond the horizons.

But the stars… oh, the stars. The stars were beautiful that night. Kayle began pointing out star formations to her sister. Morgana, in her typical fashion, tried to listen with interest but soon fell forward into her sister's lap where she curled up into a cute little ball as she sought warmth in an all too familiar embrace.

Kayle sighed happily and her sister gave her a quizzical look. Morgana was so headstrong and stubborn and sometimes just simply too much to handle, but in the moments when they were alone Kayle found a different side to her sister. One that she very much loved; happy, cute, gentle. And nice to hold. That, too.

'Kayle…', Morgana muttered barely-audibly.

'Mhmmm?'

'Tell me a bedtime story…?'

Kayle hesitated, but only for one very brief moment. Inhaling quietly as her hand played with one of her sister's stray strands of hair, she began:

' _Once upon a time, in a land much like ours, a Justicar by the name of- '_

(break)

 _At the Institute…_

'Kayle!', Justicar Michael called out to his protégé.

Pausing to wipe the sweat from her eyebrows, the young angel sheathed her sword and turned to face her teacher. She saw her mentor try and make his way towards her through the crowd of advanced acolytes practicing their swordsmanship on dummies. He called out to her again, but over the din it was barely audible.

'Yes, Justicar?', Kayle asked, puzzled. Justicar Michael had never stopped her in the midst of a practice session. That coupled with what could only be describe as a very troubled look on his face gave Kayle a cause for slight concern.

'You need to sit down.'

(break)

 _Moments Later…_

'It's nothing too serious but it is something you need to know…', Justicar Michael drawled, watching Kayle intently, '…your parents have been called away- '

Kayle's eyes widened. Her parents had given her no prior notice at the dinner table the night before…

'- I apologize for interrupting but', Kayle scrunched her eyebrows in confusion, ' _both_ of them have been summoned?'

'Yes', Michael nodded sympathetically, 'it is rather urgent. They had to leave. On the Judicator's order.'

Kayle inhaled sharply, surprised. Judicator Arianna's orders? _Must be something extremely important,_ she thought.

'Which is why I am here to inform you', Michael finished.

'Justicar… h-how long will they be gone for?', Kayle gingerly asked. Justicar Michael looked at her beseeching gaze and really did wish he had an answer to his student's question.

But he did not have those answers.

'I don't know', Justicar Michael simply shrugged.

It was just too bad.

(break)

 _Later that day…_

'They did what!?', Morgana yelped indignantly as she turned on her sister.

'What?'

'Why?'

'Whe-'

'Morgana stop!', Kayle threw up her hands. 'You are not helping.'

She scowled at her sister.

'I have said this before and I will say this again. They are not! I repeat not! Not leaving us. They just have duties they have to attend to and I really hope you can act your age and be a bit more understanding!'

'Understanding?', Morgana sneered, 'they left us without a word.'

'It was on the Judicator's orders, Morgana', Kayle was somber, 'you need to realize that.'

'I…', Morgana stuttered, 'hmph!'. She breathed, frustrated.

Kayle could only sigh again. Kayle sighed a lot when she was around her sister. It was something she was only beginning to come around to being aware of. Perhaps it was why she was aging prematurely.

'With that', she started, somewhat gingerly as she tried to not provoke her younger sister's ire again, 'we are either going to go live at the Institute like some other kids or we could just stay right where we are and I will try to take care of you...'

Morgana thought of lashing out at her sister again, then reconsidered and held her tongue. _What would I even accomplish?_ she thought. After a long moment, Morgana spoke. Kayle could hear the slightest hint of resignation in her sister's voice.

'Awkay…', Morgana mumbled, ' I-I guess I will stay with you.'

'Great!', Kayle smiled. It did not reach her eyes, however. Even without looking Morgana could tell the enthusiasm was forced, 'I get to be the big sister for real this time!'

'Yay…big sister…', Morgana felt a smile tugging at the corner of her lips as the beginning of a plan began to hatch in her head, '…be a dear and make me an omelet?'

'Anything for you, love', Kayle smiled, relieved. She was glad there was finally something she could do to lighten the mood. Inside, her gut churned in anticipation of the uncertain days ahead.

 _When will our parents return? What urgent business was it that demanded both of them be called away? Why is the Judicator involved?_ Those and many other perplexing questions plagued her mind. So Kayle did what anyone else would do in that situation- she chose to focus on what was before her. And that just turned out to be her sister; something real, something solid, something… _there_.

Not strangely at all, Kayle found great comfort in the knowledge.

'Anything at all.'


	2. Chapter 2: Apart

**Hello Fanfiction! (for those who wanna skip the wall of text go to TL;DR)**

 **It is I, support velkoz** , **and** **this is my first story , though I've been here for a while just lurking around and reading fanfics by the masters i.e. Waddlebuff, Cerubois, Supreme Distraction… I mained Morgana in a very brain-dead-farming fashion out of bronze then expanded my pool of midlaners from 1 to about 2 dozen to fight my way to silver 1 where I am now as of Season 7's 2** **nd** **week. Despite that, Morgana remains very close to my heart.**

 **Seeing as to how it is around the end of the year and I don't have very much to do I decided to just sit my ass down for a few hours and write something about a beloved champion of mine and, of course, her dear sister.**

 **With that being said, since this is something I write purely for fun, I have no intent of rushing things. I will take my time and just ramp things up very, very slowly so if you saw the M rating and thought this was a MorganaxKayle then no. Get out. Now. Or stay. There will be action… just not those two I don't think… This story focuses a lot on what I feel is the backstory behind Morgana's descent and I just love delving into all the little things that make her the way she becomes, so like I said definitely a lot of build-up.**

 **Feedback is appreciated although I'm still trying to figure out the whole toolbar and all the stuff that comes within my writer's page so replies might very well be slow. It is very messy. I hope you enjoy the story though, have an amazing day, don't forget to smile and remember to honor. Cheers!**

 **TL;DR. I write for fun. Thanks for dropping by. This story will be long. Hope you like it.**

Chapter 2: Apart.

 _Months later…_

Sparks flew in the air as the two swords clashed. Asri grinned as she locked eyes with her protégé. She was clearly enjoying herself, judging from the way her eyes shone with a barely-concealed glint of joy when the blades disengaged.

Her student, however, grimaced.

Morgana was not enjoying herself at all, even though her appreciation for the arts had certainly improved over the past months, wielding the _large, clumsy and stupid swords_ , as she referred to them, had only gotten marginally more bearable.

After all, Morgana's favorite weapon remained the magic that could be commanded so readily at her fingertips. But at the same time, sparring was among the few activities that her mentor enjoyed, and in recent months Morgana found herself wanting to find more and more reasons to spend time with her now surrogate-mother-of-sorts, Asri. Why she felt the way she did, Morgana did not know, but it could very well be because of the widening rift between her and her sister…

Strike. Block. Parry. Strike. Block. Parry. Morgana let herself get lost in the repetitive pattern that she had come to know by heart as she danced with Asri in a deadly waltz of blades.

To the untrained eye, it would look as if the two were going all out at each other's throats. But every strike was calculated, and every movement was met gracefully by the opposing blade, though that grace was beginning to slip on Morgana's end as she was getting more and more tired.

A full hour of training could be taxing on the limbs.

Morgana grunted, stepping forward quickly as she thrust her blade right at her mentor's chest, aiming for the heart, her whole weight thrown into the stab. Too late, she realized, with wide-eyed panic, as Asri neatly sidestepped the dash, being the master bladeswoman that she was.

The blonde-haired youngster could almost see how, in slow motion, her mentor flashed her a cheeky little grin before slamming down with the hilt of her sword on Morgana's outstretched forearm, eliciting a cry from the young angel as she stumbled forward and fell down unceremoniously in a mess of tangled limbs and wings. Her sword fell to the ground, its solitary clatter loud in the deserted court yard.

Before she could turn around to face Asri, Morgana felt a sandaled foot step on her back to prevent her from getting up. She could tell without having to see that Asri's sword was being leveled at the back of her skull and immediately tossed all thoughts of turning the fight around out of her head. Not that she would be able to turn the tables even if she had tried.

There was only one way that this would end.

'Do you concede?', Asri smirked victoriously as she stared down at her student.

'Hmm?', Asri pressed a little onto her foot, but without any intention of hurting. There was no need to- with her sandal placed on Morgana's back between her wings her student was reduced to a state much like that of a turtle on its back; going nowhere.

'Alright… you win…', Morgana finally admitted, albeit grudgingly, '… again'. Morgana pouted as she pushed herself off the ground.

With a helping hand from Asri, the young angel got back onto her feet and began dusting herself off.

Morgana felt her mentor's hands caress her wings and went stock still. Freezing where she stood, Morgana wondered just what was going on. At her feet, she saw only one large shadow… which meant that Asri was standing right behind her back.

'Relax', a voice beside her ear breathed, tickling her earlobes slightly, causing Morgana to squirm. 'I'm just helping you dust off your wings.'

'O-okay', Morgana croaked as she broke the tension and whipped around hastily.

'O-hey!', Asri smiled, taking a hasty step back. She stared at Morgana, puzzled. 'Is everything alright…?'

Morgana blushed, wondering as she did so why she was even blushing for no reasons. _Oh my god what is going on…_

'N-nothing…', Morgana stuttered, then instantly blanched as her words reached her own ears, 'I meant, everything's fine!'

'Mmm…', Asri hummed as she recovered Morgana's sword and proceeded to delicately blow the dust off its sharp edge. Her eyes seemed focused on something in the distance, '…okay!'. She beamed at Morgana, who replied with a relieved sigh disguised under a smile. Both felt some of the awkwardness lift.

 _What the hell came over me?_ The question haunted the edges of Morgana's mind as she solemnly followed her mentor to take a break within the shades, the spot where Asri had touched her back still tingling a little with a sensation Morgana could not explain.

With a sigh, Morgana shook it off.

She had other things to worry about.

(break)

And one of the things that Morgana had to worry about was, uncharacteristically, her older sister- Kayle.

In the preceding months Kayle had… failed. There was simply no other way to put it. While she cared and loved her sister, and while she also tried to be the best that she could be as master of the household and her sister's caretaker at the same time, it had unfortunately not worked out.

Before, _while our parents were still with us,_ Morgana thought with no small amount of bitterness, Kayle had been the perfect sister. Or as perfect as she could be, since she was able to balance her life at the Institute with her duties at home.

But now, with her duties at home stacked on top of the increasingly long hours of training she was putting herself through to as quickly as possible surpass the rank of Acolyte, there was little time left for any sisterly bonding. With the equilibrium shattered, there was only enough time in a day for one or the other, not both at the same time.

It depressed the both of them. That was the same.

Their methods of coping, however, were different.

Frustrated by her inability to remain close to her sister who, admittedly, had been fickle to start with, Kayle threw herself even more into her training. There were rare times when even she herself questioned what she was even achieving by spending so much time conjuring up and cutting down dummies, going for sparring sessions, and learning more Sefiro magic. Even Justicar Michael, her teacher, was concerned.

Angered, as expected, by her sister's attitude, Morgana found herself seeking comfort elsewhere. Asri thus became her sorta-surrogate-mother, though if anyone asked she would say they were more like friends.

Deep down, both were secretly convinced that their screwed up life would instantly revert back to normal upon their parents' return.

They were right.

But there was only one problem.

(break)

After scanning around to make sure no one was in the vicinity, Kayle rested her sword on its sheath and carefully placed it beside her. Kayle crossed her legs as she leaned back against the steps leading into the courtyard and cast her gaze up at the darkening sky. It had been a while since she had had the chance to star-gaze. Most nights passed with her scrambling back from the Institute to cook her sister and her a hasty meal before it was getting late and Morgana would make up some excuse to go to bed early, leaving her to do the dishes.

Years of having to deal with her childish sister had taught Kayle a great deal about the virtues of patience.

But still, entering a dimly-lit room to see her sister's back facing the doorway one too many nights made Kayle lose some of her excitement to even come home after dark.

Thankfully, though, tonight was one when she wasn't obliged to go home. Morgana had 'booked out', saying she was going to spend the night at Asri's. Kayle silently thanked her lucky stars for the instructor's willingness to take her sister in. Those two had been awfully close in recent weeks, not that Kayle minded.

It had been too long since she had time to herself and Kayle was beginning to miss what it was like to live without having to look out for her increasingly rebellious sister all the time. _Mom, Dad, where are you now?_ , Kayle looked to the stars for an answer. They met her beseeching gaze with cold, white light.

That, and silence. The silence was not helping.

Out of the blue, her stomach grumbled. Kayle was surprised… she had forgotten that it had been hours since she had last had a bite. Gathering her weapon, Kayle began striding across the dark court yard in the direction of the Institute's main hall. Hopefully, she could grab a quick meal before it was too late.

Letting her mind drift, Kayle idly wondered what her sister was having for dinner that night. Asri did not seem like a woman who was much good at any things related to cooking, as far as she could tell, although Kayle tried to not judge too hard.

After all, her little sister would be in the young woman's care, and deep down Kayle wished only the best for her.

(break)

 _Over at Asri's…_

Morgana let her eyes run across the furniture in the neat little dining room as she, for the third time in as many minutes, repositioned her and Asri's plates _just so_ on their spots at the table. Everything was immaculately well-polished and had a feel of pure _style_ about them, not that Morgana could claim to know anything about style. She took her time placing down the utensils in just the _perfect_ position, something even she herself found weird.

Morgana was not usually a stickler for details. Being around Asri must have changed her, she thought as she took her seat, giving the dining room another once-over just to be sure. Of what she was trying to make sure of is as much a mystery to us as it is to hers.

Before long, her host sashayed out of the kitchen bearing sumptuous-smelling food.

'Woah…', Morgana clapped delightedly, as Asri laid down the dishes in front of her, 'I never would have known you were such a good cook!'

'Aww…', Asri smiled radiantly at her pupil as she took her own seat across the table from her blonde-haired companion. There was twinkle in her eyes, '…thank you!'

Morgana picked up her fork and spoon, and was about to spear a piece of meat before a thought flitted across her mind. Pausing, she turned her gaze towards her mentor. True enough, Asri was giving her an expectant stare.

Setting down her utensils, Morgana meekly smiled.

'Shall we pray?'

Asri smiled back. Nodding, she said;

'Lead the way.'

(break)

 _Later that night…_

Morgana kneeled atop her sheets and furrowed her eyebrows as she stopped to wonder what Kayle would be doing at this time of night. While she did not usually let her concerns for others distract her from living happily in her own little world Kayle _was_ someone close to her heart and it did hurt a little to look back and realize how distant they had become since their parents' departure.

 _Come back to us, Mom, Dad…_ Morgana silently wished, looking out the tiny window on the opposite wall, _we need you._

Lost in her reverie, Morgana did not notice the slim figure leaning against the doorway to the room, its lower half bathed in moonlight.

'Something on your mind, Ana?', it called.

Startled, Morgana turned around to face her mentor. Only her sister called her that. _How did she know?_ Morgana brushed the thought out of her mind as she smiled. Not that Asri could see her, though that did not occur to her mind at the moment.

They stayed like that for a few brief seconds, staring at each other in the semi-darkness. Just as it was starting to get awkward, Asri spoke.

'Can I, uh, come in?'

'O-of course', the blonde-haired youngster stammered, wondering as she did _why the heck am I even stammering_ , 'eh ?… it's… your house after all…'. She trailed off, face flushed for no good reason. She folded her legs under her and sat back against the headboard, expectant.

'Ah', Morgana could hear the mirth in her mentor's voice as she padded softly towards her, 'right.'

Morgana half-saw, half-felt the far corner of her bed sink under Asri's weight. Before she could think of something to say just to break the silence, she felt a hand find its way onto her pajama-covered thigh.

Morgana flinched. The hand instantly retracted. The young angel trained her gaze on her mentor. Had she been able to seen Morgana's eyes, Asri would have noticed that they were like those of a deer caught in the headlight.

Asri sounded different when she spoke again.

'Goodnight', a shadow began quietly making its way back towards the door, 'Morgana.'

Had she had the presence of mind to, Morgana would have realized that she was now being called by her name rather than 'Ana'. But her mind was a mess as she sat there trying to grasp what happened, and so Asri sighed as her goodnight was met with silence.

With a _click!_ , the bedroom door closed shut.

Outside, leaves rustled.

Morgana could almost taste autumn in the air.

(break)

'You are a sick, sick person Asri.'

'I know.'

'But it's okay though, she doesn't.'

'Yes….'

'I should probably stop talking to myself, eh?'

'Yeah…'

Asri bit her lips in frustration as her fingers worked feverishly beneath her bed sheets. Her forehead was heavily beaded with sweat, but she did not care. Feeling release close at hand, her pace quickened and the master bladeswoman let out soft little whimpers as she felt herself being brought to the edge.

And then she was riding it, her back arching, her nerves from top to toe tingling, her eyes wide open as she stared up at the ceiling… almost like as if she could see through it at the peacefully-sleeping angel that was her guest just one floor away.

'Morgana…', she groaned quietly.

And then the high was gone.

Asri sighed as she let the tap water run over her sticky hand.

Some of the residual fluids was still stuck in the sinkhole. She turned the tap to full in an attempt to flush it with water. Asri didn't want to touch it in the least bit.

In the sterile white light of the bathroom she looked like shit. Hair disheveled, eyes bloodshot, mouth half open. Oh, and that crazed look in her eyes. Not to forget about that.

 _What the fuck are you doing with your life_ , she asked the person staring back at her from the glass. Truth was, she had no idea.

 _Had I been too rash? Should I have taken it slowly? Should I have…_ her eyes widened slightly as the thought struck her with the full gentleness of a charging minotaur _… should I have drugged her…?_

 _No._

 _Not like this._ Asri shook her head at her own reflection.

 _It must be natural._

Asri sighed again, taking one last look at the visage of the sick-minded, twisted pervert in the mirror before making her way back to bed. It was still too early to be up and practicing for the day ahead, although she felt like she still had enough pent-up energy in her to just run a few rounds around the Academy nearby.

Anything would be a welcome distraction from the lust and depravity that was threatening to break loose and turn her into some sex fiend. Heaven forbid that.

Propping herself onto her elbows, she clamped her head between her arms and tried to suffocate herself for a good few moments before all thoughts of laying her hands on her young guest left her mind and Asri was left gasping . Her sheets made her itch. Maybe it was because of the sweat. _Whatever,_ she thought.

Finally, Asri dozed off, her troubled mind not helped by the fact that she could hear every toss and turn of the young angel above her as she slept, adding only to her already twisted dreams.

 _What the fuck is wrong with me…_

 _(break)_

 _Upstairs…_

Morgana wasn't sleeping so well herself, although her reason was much more innocent; she simply wasn't used to the bed.

It was weird. The sheets made her itch a little. The young angel tried to not be too concerned by it, though, as she knew she had a long day tomorrow.

Finally deciding that sleep would elude her yet again, the blonde-haired youngster sat up and leaned against headboard as she began to take a moment to reflect on her day.

Dinner had passed uneventfully, although a point to note was that Asri cooked really well. At least compared to her sister. Morgana smiled a little at her own comparison.

Kayle was much more proficient with a blade than with anything related to the kitchen. _And she's a girl,_ Morgana thought glumly, _aren't girls supposed to be good at that kind of stuff?_

It did not occur to her to think that as a girl herself she was absolutely shit at anything related to cooking. But anyhow, it was the furthest thing from her mind at the moment. Morgana could not help but let her thoughts once again drift to her parents. Questions plagued her as much as they plagued her sister, but unfortunately for the young angel she could not throw herself into her training to distract her unlike the way her sister did.

What this resulted in was, unfortunately, a lot of time for her to think about all sorts of things; questions that only created more questions and more questions. You are probably just as confused as she was as she squinted her eyes at the jagged outlines of the Dark Mountains in the far, far distance.

'Heaven be damned', Morgana mumbled as she threw herself atop the large pillow and buried her face in the fabric.

 _I don't even want to think about what Asri did back there…_ Morgana groaned internally… _oh my god._

 _Just what the heck is happening?_

(break)

'I wished I had an answer to that.'

Kayle nodded, resigned, as she allowed herself to lean back in the plush seat.

Across the table from her Justicar Michael was seated in the host chair, which looked and felt much more uncomfortable than hers, seeing as to how it was made of solid wood. The Justicar had said before that he wanted to make his guests at ease when in his presence. Kayle personally found the plush seat a pain in the back, accustomed as she was to sitting with her back ramrod-straight at all times.

'No news about your parents, however', Michael gave Kayle a pitying look.

'O-okay', Kayle got up, not forgetting to push the chair in behind her. 'Thank you for your time, Justicar.'

Just as she was about to close the door behind her, her name was called. Kayle turned to look at her mentor, an eyebrow arched. Waiting.

'Your parents…', Justicar Michael started. Kayle's full attention was instantly caught and she looked at him expectantly.

If she would have known what was to come next, she wouldn't have allowed that hopeful smile to tug at the corners of her lips. Alas, Kayle was no clairvoyant.

'-they…', Justicar Michael swallowed ,despite himself, as he met his student's hopeful stare with his own downcast gaze, '…they have been sent to war.'

(break)

 **Support Velkoz's note to readers:**

 **I just got back into playing League regularly again (5-8 matches a day) so I will be writing a lot less. This story isn't abandoned, however. It will just come even more slowly.**

 **Forgive me.**


	3. Chapter 3: Lucid

Chapter 3: Lucid.

'Oh…', Kayle managed one croak, her eyes out of focus as she leaned heavily against the door frame.

'Yes'. Justicar Michael pursed his lips.

Even he was aware of how miserable his offered condolence sounded.

'Why…?', Kayle managed to whisper, her mind in turmoil.

Michael hesitated.

On one hand, he was bound by certain oaths he had taken to not reveal classified war information. But on the other, Kayle was his protégé and he felt a certain degree of pity for her…

There were two roads he could take but perhaps… _perhaps I can make another, between them_ , thought Michael, as a decision formed within him.

'Come with me.'

(break)

'Where are we going?', Kayle spoke up in an uncharacteristically demure way as she followed Michael down one of the many long hallways within the Institute.

Despite having been around the Institute for years such that it was almost a second home to her, even she had not travelled down this path. All the decorations on the walls were foreign to her and that, coupled with the fact that there was absolutely not a soul in sight, gave Kayle a cause for curiosity.

'You will find out', was the answer she got from Justicar Michael, who said it without turning back as he continued taking long strides forward. Kayle found that she had to actually go into a slight jog just to keep up.

Every now and then her mentor cast hurried glances backwards, almost as if he was checking to see if they were being followed. Kayle's curiosity only got larger.

Finally, after what felt like hours had passed, they arrived before a massive oak door at the end of a hallway.

It was unlabeled, unlike every other door she had seen in the Institute, although it had to be important, Kayle noted, seeing the Judicator's seal engraved on the wood before her. It sure did look very imposing, which meant something in of itself since Kayle was not easily impressed.

She looked at her mentor expectantly as he stood there right beside the door. He seemed to be waiting for something.

A moment passed and just as Kayle was about to ask him what was going on, Justicar Michael raised a knuckled-fist.

He knocked. Without skipping a beat, he proceeded to push the door right open.

And then, they stepped in.

(break)

Asri gazed intently at the girl sleeping peacefully below her, biting her lips.

Quietly, she set the breakfast tray down on the dresser in the opposite corner of the room, checking once again to make sure that the glass of juice was fully and well mixed before returning to the bedside.

Sunlight shone past lacy curtains, partly filtered of its glare to leave a gentle golden glow that fell on sleeping beauty's visage and gave her blonde hair a soft aura.

Pale skin framed by beautiful blonde bangs, a slender, beautiful neck leading past the young angel's chest to her relatively flat stomach. Then further down beyond Morgana's… covered nether regions, Asri gulped as her eyes were momentarily glued to the spot…

Then further, to where the girl's night skirt had ridden up to reveal young, creamy thighs that were just the _right_ amount of thick. The thin blanket she had even bothered to pull over herself had slipped down and was now gathered around her petite feet. It was a vision of perfection and the older angel absolutely swooned.

 _So pretty…_

Pretty, and truly a work of art.

Asri sighed as she reached out a hand to caress _her_ sleeping angel's cheek, but stopped halfway, her outstretched hand barely an inch from Morgana's cheek.

Her gut always did flips whenever she was in her Ana's presence. Even though she knew exactly the reason why she was that way, Asri pretended that she did not, hoping that somehow doing so would make her pent-up feelings go away.

She had…needs. Needs that had to be met. Needs that, unfortunately, had to be by a certain _someone._

The only problem was that Morgana was under-aged and Asri wasn't _that_ desperate. But even if Morgana was of age, however, there were next to no guarantees that she would even reciprocate the older angel's advances. Not willingly, at least.

Asri sighed again. Why did love have to be so complicated? Or was it lust? Honestly, thinking about it at all only served to rile her up her up unnecessarily. Asri did not want to question whether her feelings for the girl was genuine; it made her doubt her own intentions, and there was no backing out now.

So instead, she settled for brushing a stray strand of blond hair away from Morgana's eyes, which suddenly flew open causing her to yelp and leap back in surprise.

Morgana stared at her.

'H-hi', Asri heard herself speak in a voice that was too high to be hers, 'I-I didn't know that you were awake.'

'I wasn't.'

'…'

'Oh…'

Asri gaped as she thought of things to say to not make it too obvious that she had been staring at the sleeping Morgana for almost half an hour and being a creep.

Morgana seemed to realize something as the silence dragged on.

'Oh… that's', she mumbled, her slightly slurred voice the only indication that she had just come out of sleep at all, 'that's just how I wake up usually...'

Asri visibly relaxed, although Morgana was still a little too bleary to notice.

'I brought you breakfast', Asri offered with a smile.

'Oh?', Morgana was pleasantly surprised. She sat up fully and gathered the blanket around her waist as her gaze searched the room for her promised meal.

As her eyes settled on the tray in the corner, she brightened up.

'Thank you!', Morgana exclaimed happily, clapping her hands in delight.

Asri only smiled. She walked over and returned with the glass of juice in hand.

With a smile, she offered it to her guest.

Morgana took it gladly and took a sip, scrunching her eyebrows together as she mulled over the taste. After a few seconds, after apparently deciding that it was absolutely fantastic, she gulped the rest down.

Asri waited with barely concealed anticipation as she saw the glass empty down her guest's throat. Morgana, of course, did not take notice of this.

'So… how did you sleep last night?'

'Well…', Morgana lied, 'thank you!'

'Mm…'

The young angel got out of bed and sheepishly walked past Asri, who was now just sitting at the edge of the bed staring at her.

'The bathroom's down the hallway to the left, right?', she asked, even though she had already known the way.

'Yeah.' Asri nodded, still staring as her ward left to wash her face.

Soon, she heard the sound of running water.

Asri could hear her own heartbeats thumping erratically in her chest. The anticipation was almost too much for her to handle. And yet at the same time, she herself knew that this was the most important part.

The water ran for a long time.

After a good ten minutes had passed, Asri decided that it was safe to go.

She found Morgana passed out on the bathroom floor, body prone, one hand outstretched as if reaching for the door. She was probably trying to steady herself as her vision blurred and her world began to go dark. _Poor dear,_ the older angel mused, _she must have been so confused._

Asri smirked as she hoisted the girl up and carried her bridal style to her own bedroom. There was no need to lock the door.

Morgana would be asleep for a long time, and there was only one person who even knew that she was at Asri's. However, the chances of Kayle dropping everything to come look for her sister was slim at best- Asri had observed how fervent the girl was about her training and knew that Kayle would not miss a practice session just because her sister came home just a little bit late.

Asri licked her lips. She couldn't help herself.

Morgana was just so… _perfect._

(break)

'There is… a war going on.'

'…'

'…'

'Am I supposed to say something, Justicar?', Kayle asked by way of an answer.

Justicar Michael shrugged.

Kayle furrowed her eyebrows as she folded her arms across her chest. She was usually not so… unlike herself, but recent events had made her rather irritable.

'You say that, Justicar, as if it explains everything.'

'It doesn't?', Justicar Michael asked, puzzled. He seemed rather clueless. _Men…_

Kayle was about to snap right then and there but something held her back. Perhaps it was the mental discipline she had developed over the year, or the huge reserves of patience she had worked up living under the same roof as her wayward younger sister. But anyways, she did not end up screaming at her mentor and only gave a very long, very drawn out, very exasperated sigh.

Kayle was indeed aging prematurely. Her sighs made it clear.

'Who are we even fighting?', Kayle asked impatiently as she followed Justicar Michael up some steps. Before them was what looked like a…pool? There was a bright green glow coming from it, one that illuminated the whole room.

She got no answer from her mentor who continued walking until he was right at the wall of the pool thing. Curious, Kayle followed.

 _It's not a pool…_ Kayle thought. _It's a… map?_

And indeed, it was.

Before the two of them was a gigantic map of Aerilion, although it took her a moment to fully locate where they were on the map but only thanks to the help of the jagged ranges of the Dark Mountains, to the west of which her city lies.

What puzzled Kayle the most as she continued surveying the glowing map, however, was the fact that it seemed to be alive and moving and not only that, but also the fact that the initial green she saw wasn't the light of the whole map.

In fact, the green light only came from some areas of the map, mostly near and around her city. With closer inspection one would say the green was barely half the whole of Aerilion. Upon even closer perusal one would have been alarmed to see that the red areas of the map were almost encircling the green ones, although what the distressing red was Kayle did not know and thus, could not tell.

'Judicator Arianna has been keeping it away from the people', her mentor spoke, startling Kayle. He had been rather silent as he stood beside her, waiting patiently as she tried to make sense of what was essentially a war map. 'News of the war, I mean.'

'Who are we fighting?', Kayle muttered, barely audible. Her eyes were on the red patches. All north and south of the Dark Mountains, the red was blanketed like a sinister veil.

'We are fighting the...um-', Michael hesitated as he bit his lips.

Part of him knew that there was no easy way to put it, but in the end, the girl's parents had been sent and she had a right to know. _She deserves to know._

At least, that was what he told himself as he tried to convince his own mind that it would be a good idea to tell Kayle that there was a civil war raging not too far away from the city's gates.

Now that was a mistake Justicar Michael should not have made.

(break)

Morgana resurfaced from a dream of being torn apart by hooded beings to the biggest fucking headache of her life and she hated it. Not only that, she was incredibly groggy, which would have made her suspect a hangover had she the presence of mind to form a coherent thought. What hit her the hardest, however, was the fact that her body ached all over.

As it was, she was barely able to open her eyelids, noticing the first thing that came to her being the fact that she seemed to _not_ be in her own home.

Disoriented, she tried to focus on the objects in the room.

She saw Asri sitting by her bedside and was a bit startled. What was her mentor doing here?

'Hey.'

'…'

'You're awake.'

'Wh-where am I?', asked a confused Morgana.

'You are at my house. You came to stay over last night.'

'Oh.'

'Are you alright? You were out of it for a while… I don't know why', asked a worried Asri as she tentatively placed a hand on Morgana's forehead. When Morgana did not shy away, she rested her hand fully on the girl's forehead to test her temperature. Asri seemed almost hesitant to touch Morgana, as if she was afraid she would be pushed away.

Morgana herself didn't mind. The coolness of her mentor's hand was a welcome relief to the burning heat of her forehead.

'We need to get you something cool to drink… give me a moment.'

And with that Asri quickly left the room. She had not been gone two minutes before Morgana was already missing her. For some reasons, she felt unusually needy at that moment. She wanted to hold, or rather, to _be_ held.

Asri returned with a glass of what Morgana guessed was orange juice. As she tried to sit herself up in bed a restraining hand was placed on her shoulder. Looking up, Morgana saw a kind smile bestowed upon her.

'Sit still', was the gentle command as her mentor towered over her, looking down.

Nevertheless, Morgana complied, eyes wide as saucers as she stared at her mentor who was bringing the glass to her lips, wondering what was about to happen as her cheeks flustered in a very uncharacteristic, definitely non-Morgana way.

The cool juice lapped slightly at her pursed lips and Asri squeezed her shoulders a little. It was an unspoken request. _Open your mouth._

So Morgana did, and Asri fed the refreshing, cool, very, very well-mixed orange juice down _her_ sweet little Morgana's throat again.

Morgana leaned back, a pleasurable chill running up and down her spine. The sun framed her mentor's face beautifully. Blonde locks were golden, almost, in the light of dusk. Asri brushed stray strands of hair out her eyes and Morgana had the weirdest urge to reach up with her hand, grab that hand, and pull her mentor into a kiss.

However, she found that for some strange reason the strength had left her body and she was barely able to move her head as she saw her mentor's head coming closer and getting larger and larger in her darkening vision.

 _I'm so sleepy…._

 _What's Kayle doing right now?_ Fading sunlight streamed in from fully open windows. Even that was getting darker by the second. _Strange, I could swear I had just woke up… why am I so sleepy again?_

'Ana? Are you alright?', from the end of a long, dark tunnel, Morgana heard her mentor's voice call out to her. It was full of concern. How nice. How endearing. _I like her…_

 _What happened last night?_

As darkness rose to claim Morgana once more, it occurred to her to realize that Asri's hand had moved down from her shoulder and was now slipping into her night skirt, holding her close. Soft murmurs came from somewhere. Probably Asri.

 _Why?_ was her last thought.

And then Morgana was gone.

(break)

Kayle was angry. No. Scrap that. She was furious.

'What do you mean with other Sefiro?', she paused, thinking furiously for one second before assaulting her poor mentor with another barrage of questions, 'does that mean we are having a civil war now? So my parents are now fighting their own brothers and sisters? Why would Sefiro fight Sefiro? Is that what the red is? Did we lose _that_ much Aerilion to _those_ Sefiro already?'

'Kayle', Michael held up two placating hands, 'please. Stop for a second. I know you are frustra-'

'-you know nothing!', Kayle interrupted him, her voice rising to almost a shout. 'You do not know what it is like to lose family to the war, you do no-'

'Kayle!', Michael snapped, then quickly regained his composure as he shot his pupil a pained look. Before him, he saw a frustrated youth. That was not what Kayle was supposed to be. 'My sister was in the army.'

Kayle was taken aback.

'…was?'

'…'

Justicar Michael sighed as he turned his back on his student and began walking out of the map room. He paused for one second mid-stride, a signal to Kayle that she should follow. Wordlessly, she did.

As the doors to the room closed behind them, Michael spoke again.

'She was a healer in the battle for Irongate.'

Kayle nodded solemnly, not knowing what else to do. Irongate was the only Sefiro city in all of the Dark Mountains and it was named thus because it sat right at the beginning of the large canyon that ran right across the whole mountain ranges forming an unbroken road from the Wanderer's Seas to the capital, the Citadel.

Control of Irongate equaled control of the entire Dark Mountain ranges.

A brief glance at the map just now had revealed Irongate to be way deep inside the red, the meaning of which was now just beginning to dawn on Kayle, giving her a cause for much consternation, not that she let it show.

Her mentor had spoken of his sister in the past tense. Kayle did not wish to imagine what it must have been like. Her mind was becoming a mess too soon she couldn't even keep track of her thoughts.

Gingerly, she reached out to place a comforting hand on her mentor's shoulder ahead of her. He did not shun her and Kayle was relieved, a little. Anything she could do to comfort her mentor now was good enough for her. After all, the pain of losing family members must be immense…

And then it hit her.

'But Justicar, what of my parents?'

Michael did not turn around. He was afraid that if he did, the girl would see the pain on his face and would immediately know. She was a smart girl. She would be able to easily connect the dots.

Sometimes he wished his protégé wouldn't be so perceptive.

But alas, it was not to be.

'Justicar…?'

(break)

 **Support Velkoz's note to my lovely readers: Sefiro are immortal once they reach full maturity at the age of 30. However, until then they age at half the rate of humans. That means that a 13 year old Morgana in this story according to Sefiro years is actually already 26 years old in terms on human years. I leave it to your own imagination to figure out the story as you will. I just grinded 50 games (37 wins) of nocturne jungle from silver 3 after my placements to gold 5 where I am now. I'm playing 10-12 matches a day so writing is done very slowly. Once again, I ask for your forgiveness. Be kind like Kayle and forgive Michael. Or don't. Drama is nice.**


	4. Chapter 4: Fortress

Chapter 4: Fortress

 _2 months ago…_

Emilia examined the dirt under her fingernails. For one moment of vanity, she considered finding something with which to pick said dirt. She gave her dagger a questioning look, as if asking it if its sharp edge would suffice to chase away the dirt underneath her now-overgrown nails.

…

It would probably rip her nails from her fingers. Emilia quickly dismissed the thought. Blood wasn't something she wanted on her mind at that particular point in time.

It was already all around her to begin with.

'Emi!', someone called out to her. Emilia turned.

Adriel waved, his golden armor a stark contrast to the black piles of corpses he was climbing over to reach her. There was a serious look on his face, which probably meant bad news.

Adriel was, for lack of a better way to put it, a free spirit; so much so that in the heat of battle he would not hesitate to smile happily, which was equal parts creepy and endearing the way Emilia saw it.

Amidst slit throats, chopped heads and severed limbs, the cerulean-eyed young Justicar from Azmarin could still maintain a carefree look.

Not surprisingly, his troubled visage caused a lump to form in her throat.

'What is it?', she asked as he got close enough. Her assistant's booted feet came to rest on the upturned face of a Fallen female- one whose head had been relieved from its body. Emilia quickly glanced away, sickened. She turned to Adriel. He _looked_ chirpy, as if someone could manage to physically embody so transient a notion, and of all places, here. His bubbliness was beginning to grate on her nerves and she huffed impatiently as the boy before her seemed to try to make up his mind whether to speak or not. _What is it with men when they are around women…._

'You are needed back at the station, that's all.'

'You could have signaled me over.', Emilia almost caught herself snarling at him. It was strange. Viciousness did not come to her naturally. Perhaps the battles have changed her. Or maybe she was just growing old. To be honest, she was too tired to care.

'Yeah…', Adriel admitted, '…but I-I just… just wanted to-'

Emilia shot him a questioning look. Adriel was never one to stammer; when he spoke the flood gates were opened and a torrent of words would spill forth, uninterrupted in neither flow nor speed. It was very unlike him to mess up, and yet he was now, flustered, looking like a first day Acolyte at the Institute wondering which end of a broadsword they should be holding.

'What?', she pressed, without perhaps intending to.

'I just wanted to check on you and see if you're… you know, o-okay…', Adriel finished with a sigh, looking at his feet. Seeing the ruined face of the Fallen he was stepping on, he turned away with barely concealed disgust.

Emilia immediately softened.

'Oh.'

She ruminated, searching her mind for things to say. It did not occur to her that a simple 'thank you' would suffice. Such was just typical Emilia; always overthinking things.

'Well… thanks.'

'Mmm.' Adriel looked like he wanted to say something so Emilia held her tongue. If that was even possible at all, she could see the gears turning in his head. It was almost cute, watching her assistant grasp for words.

'So you're fine…?', he asked.

Emilia mentally slapped herself. She had ruminated so much that she actually forgot his original question.

'I'm good.'

Her response was drier than the rock upon which she stood, and of course it never rained in the Dark Mountains.

'Well', Emilia cleared her throat, 'I will be back shortly, I just need to take care of this first.'

And by 'this', Emi of course referred to the mountains of bodies around her.

'Alright… you wouldn't mind if I lent a hand?', her cerulean-eyed companion asked, smiling slightly.

'Not at all.'

Together, they both raised their hands and began chanting incantations. The spell was a simple one. People in the Citadel had been using the spell for eons to light their master's fireplaces. The potential applications of Ignite on the battlefield were numerous, although it did take a few seconds to conjure and there was no such time in the midst of fighting.

They were not fighting anyone, though. Both watched in silence as the flames carried cremated ashes high up in the sky, mixed with embers, smoke, finally disappearing amongst the black-cliffed edges of the surrounding mountains.

'Rest in peace', they both muttered, as the last remnants of the dead Fallen burned away at their feet.

So many dead, fighting over barren pieces of rock.

Emilia sighed as she made for the infirmary.

Tomorrow, they would attack, again.

Tomorrow, she would burn their dead bodies, again.

Tomorrow, the war; oblivious to all the deaths, the sufferings, the sacrifices, will continue.

(break)

From her vantage point hundreds of feet above the two Sefiro, Krotia snorted softly in a decidedly very unladylike manner. Not that they would have been able to hear her, anyways.

The howling wind cut across steep valleys and canyons within the Dark Mountains, echoing and whistling, sometimes sounding like the tormented shrieks of the few Sefiro she actually bothered to toy with. At least to Krotia's ears. _Women…_ she recalled. Their cries were higher pitched, right?

Krotia furrowed her eyebrows. She knew it made her look older faster, but she didn't care.

Men? They usually didn't live long enough to let Krotia hear them scream.

But it mattered not, she kicked her musings out of her head as she got up from her crouched position. The two angels walked away from the trodden ashes of her fallen brothers and sisters and Krotia gritted her teeth as she absentmindedly traced the scabbard of her knife. The one with cropped hair. That one, Krotia would remember. He was digging through the pile of bodies before the shorter one arrived, as if he was looking for valuables from the Fallen to steal.

He… or she. Krotia could not be sure. It was very far away, and although she could almost see a definite sway in the movement of the Sefiro's hips the armor made every one of those imbeciles look the same to her.

She sighed.

There was going to be a battle tomorrow. She better get some sleep. Not that she would be involved in the frontline fighting, still.

But so many Sefiro busy holding the gates would allow windows of opportunities to get to the Guardians within. Especially with the surprise that the Twilight Council had planned, there would be _a lot_ of Justicars busy defending the gates…

And Krotia still had some throats to slit.

The wind continued howling, but on an empty cliff.

Krotia had disappeared, in the blink of an eye.

(break)

The warning bell rung much too early for Emilia's liking. But war, much like time and tide, waited for no one. Especially not people who had no business spending their previous night staring at stars on the fortress walls till two in the morning and neglecting sleep in the process.

Emilia did not have time to berate herself, however. The bell had barely rung for a minute and three quarters of the barracks had already emptied out, the hallway outside now loud with noises of booted feet, clanking armor and some over-hyped young Sefiro shouting 'Glory for Aerilion!'.

Someone ought to shut that recruit up. She was sure he would be among the first to get killed, charging face first at barrages of Fallen magefire mouth wide yelling battle cheers with spittle flying every which way.

Emilia let the din wash over her as she hurriedly clasped on her light armor and buckled the straps holding her dagger in place before making a beeline for the city walls.

Her wings were ruffled, her hair a mess, but there was no time for any of that _grooming_ as she emerged into the muted sunlight outside the barracks. People were running all over the place and she did not know why. She looked around for the cause of the ruckus. Enemies were not in sight anywhere all around her, so why were people running for their lives?

A great, loud series of crashes and rumbles were heard, and Emilia fearfully looked up. It sounded like a thousand thunderclaps had resounded within the canyon at once, bringing the promise of a storm of destruction.

That was not too far from the truth.

Before her widening-as-saucers eyes, the jagged peaks of Dark Moutains were dislodged from their position, rock fragments breaking off from a widening cloud of dust and fire. _Fire?_ Emilia barely had time to think as her feet turned of their own accord and began running somewhere she did not even know as she became one with the great mass of screaming Sefiro.

Mount Ashbourne had been dormant for fifty thousand years, its final eruption releasing the lava flow that had melted its way into what was today the canyon mouth at which Irongate city stood guard. There was no reason for it to blow up now, of all time, if ever, but the fire and ashes from the incoming avalanche of destruction could only mean that.

 _Unless…_

The beginning of her train of thought was interrupted as a great almighty rumble resounded across the canyons, one even louder than the crashes of the mountain top as it came hurtling down towards Irongate. Almost every Sefiro in the crowd, soldier, civilian and Justicar alike turned towards the source of the sound.

And there, levitating dozens of meters above the fortress walls, surrounded by golden light, was High Templar Meridius, her hands outstretched, magical energies emanating from them to form a barrier that was- to everyone's disbelief- not only holding still the avalanche of ashes, but also pushing it back.

The golden wall of light got higher and higher as the rocks piled against it. Even from this distance, Emilia could see her High Templar beginning to struggle. She must have been enduring the weight of thousands of tons of rocks with her willpower alone.

But there were no cracks in the barrier.

At least, not yet.

Just as Emilia was beginning to get over the awe of seeing her people's High Templar save the city from certain destruction, the warning bell rung again, its noise amplified in the stilled silence of the city.

'The Fallen!', someone screamed. The scream was followed immediately by another, and another, and another. Soon the whole crowd was screaming again. Emilia refrained from covering her ears. 'The Fallen are at the Gates!'

The soldiers around her were already making for the fortress walls, while the civilians continued running every which way, adding only to the mess. Emilie was tempted to grab someone and slap them twice across the face to get some sense into them. Screaming never helps. In war, even less.

She found herself pulled along the river of people. Someone hastily shoved a sword into her hand. But she had no use for it, not much, at least. Another, recognizing the emblem on her shoulder guard, screamed 'Medic!' before pointing her in some general direction. And still yet another, this one probably a Justicar, in golden armor as he or she was, was telling her one second to shield High Templar Meridius while she defended the city, in the next second he or she was gone.

Emilia was left alone, not knowing what to do. Like a rock, in the middle of rapids.

And still, High Templar Meridius continued hovering above all the din, all the ruckus. Above all the writhing mess of angels. Some clashing swords, some hollering in pain. Some snarling curses, most running for their lives.

She was above it all, and yet, she was also part of it.

A thin sheen of sweat started to form on Meridius's forehead as she watched the erupting lava with one eye, while out the corner of the other she saw five distinct Fallen formations making a bee line for the Gates, along with various other mechanized contraptions- most likely war machines.

But there was not even time to spare her brethren a glance to see if they had readied their defenses.

High Templar Meridius grimaced as she turned her full focus to holding back the landslide of destruction.

The barrier, _her_ barrier, was beginning to crack.

(break)

Krotia was not one to play with her food, but at that moment she really had nothing else to do. A Krotia of a different time would have chided her for her … _unprofessionalism_ , perhaps, as the hooded girl nibbled at her bread, not quite getting to the meaty part just yet.

But with the peaks of Mount Ashbourne crashing down upon Irongate; all thanks to the works of the Arch Mages, she- in her capacity as an assassin- could do little even if she had wanted to.

Krotia leaned fully against the smooth, warm rock. She arched her back, yawning, covering her mouth with her hands as she did so. No one might be around to see her, but Krotia _did_ have a great upbringing.

Covering one's mouth as one yawned was a basic and simple etiquette that unfortunately not all of her comrades seemed to think was of particular importance. But then again, they were _men._

 _Abhorrent creatures_ , Krotia thought vehemently as she gnashed her teeth onto the meat. _Nom nom…this is actually good,_ Krotia blinked twice, surprised, as she brought her little meal up for closer inspection. It was actually real meat!? Not some weird looking lump that always managed to taste like lamb…

Perhaps life on the frontlines were beginning to look up after all-

'Kroti- Heyy!', Plunos yelped as he felt the wind from the tip Krotia's blade brush past his throat. It would have slit him open had she not realized in the half-heartbeat it took for Krotia to turn on him that he was not an enemy and stilled her hand a hair's breadth from his Adam's apple.

She turned her back on him just as quickly and re-sheathed her blades. The younger Fallen then noticed his comrade's meager meal of bread dropped at her feet; forgotten. He was going to say something about that, but bit down on his tongue.

It was probably already too dirty to be consumed, anyways.

'Krotia…'

'What?!', she snapped at him. She regretted it instantly- there was no reason for her to be rude, even if he was disturbing her at her little hideaway when he clearly shouldn't have…

Krotia tried to smooth it out by grunting and nodding at him. It didn't really work. At least that was what she thought. Plunos was, incredulously, blissfully ignorant of the prevailing mood in the air. The raven haired boy who had _for some reasons_ decided to sit himself down beside her then began talking.

Krotia wanted to throw herself off the cliff.

Plunos went on and on and on about what it a magnificent sight it was to see Ashbourne's very peak coming down upon the city of their sworn enemy and how victory was surely as hand as even while they were sitting there five Fallen formations were already en route to decimate what would be left of Irongate after the landslide.

Krotia couldn't care less. She had been informed that she was to stay away from Irongate for the day. Apparently, they had no need of her while the Fallen-made landslide would surely kill everyone anyways.

At least that was what they had said.

Something made Plunos shut up, and simultaneously caused Krotia's eyes to widen just so.

Something- _no_ , Krotia corrected herself; _someone_ was rising above the fortress walls, bathed in golden divine light. That being did not wear the rank and file golden armor of the dauntless Justicar, neither did he, _or she_ , Krotia reminded herself, wear the loose flowing robes of the Guardian class. There were no Inquisitors stationed at Irongate as far as she was aware of, but that left only one possibility.

But it couldn't be… the intelligence reports said nothing of this.

Plunos began blabbering again, all the bubbliness gone out of his voice replaced by heavy tinges of worry. For a brief second her thoughts sidetracked and she reconsidered if it would be a much, much better idea to throw _him_ off the cliff rather than herself.

As if to confirm her worst fears, said being raised both arms and began summoning a mighty wall of light which not only stopped the crushing avalanche in its track but also _pushed it back_.

There was no doubt left in Krotia's mind. The being _had_ to be a High Templar.

Leaving where a now-speechless-and-staring Plunos to sit where he was, Krotia began to deftly run down the jagged, treacherous mountainside with the celerity and grace of a native Mountain goat. Not that those were still around, the stupid Sefiro had managed to eat all the goats up long ago.

 _How the hell did they even catch the goats to begin with?_

Even that thought was quickly tossed out of her mind as she jumped over two large rocks, landing smoothly a dozen meters forward and continued running as she headed for the Twilight Council.

Someone had to stop that High Templar. Fast.

(break)

The arrow was not guided by an invisible hand, but it might as well have been. There was only a small gap where her breastplate and shoulder guards did not cover- barely 2 inches wide- and yet, that cursed arrow had found its way in and now stabbed painfully somewhere in her armpit.

Emilia was not in life-threatening danger, but she would soon be. Luckily for her, she knew how to deal with these kinds of scenarios, having dealt with them numerous times before.

 _Too many times,_ she thought with chagrin as she recalled the various occasions when she would be summoned to help save a fellow soldier before the cursed Fallen arrow twisted her comrades into irredeemable monsters, only to be moments too late and having to watch as a Justicar behead her charge to save him.

But she had time, minutes this time, not second. As quickly and gingerly as she could, at the same time, Emilia began undoing her armor. The few others around her that wasn't busy shooting arrows and throwing spears back spared her one worried glance.

They were not medics, however, even if all of them knew how to heal simple wounds, and thus would be of no help. Emilia could already feel the poison and corruption seeping in. She had to hurry- but it hurt so _damn_ much. It hurt just to move as she began poking at the skin around where the arrow had penetrated her.

Surely enough, the skin had turned papery and ashen. How she could tell her skin was _ashen_ was beyond Emilia at that moment as she began whispering fervently under her breath. Wisps of green and gold began emanating from the tips of her fingers as the medic worked to fix herself.

Through a thickening haze, Emilia saw Adriel. _Was his name Adriel? Yes, it had to be…_ Adriel was giving her a strained smile as he notched another golden arrow into his bow. Acrid smoke hung in the air, no doubt a result of the magefire bombardment the Fallen were launching at the fortress walls. Adriel waved at her and Emilia attempted to wave back. Her hand refused to comply.

It made Emilia angry. She was surely going to have a word with her hand after this.

The world was fuzzy. Too fuzzy for her liking. Adriel continued standing there.

But something was wrong.

Why was he not smiling anymore?

'Adriel…', Emilia called out weakly with a sigh as she felt the corruption in her veins become purged, 'why aren't you smiling?'

By ways of reply, her assistant's headless body toppled to the ground, mere feet from where she herself sat propped up against the railings of the bastion wall. Charred black flesh and smoke lingered at where his neck had been seared clean by what was no doubt black magic. The notched bow dropped at his side, golden arrow falling to lie beside the fallen Sefiro.

'Oh my…', Emilia whispered deliriously as she struggled to get up. She grabbed onto something. Someone. They pushed her away and screamed. Then that scream was cut out too, like as if someone had shoved a large rock down the screamer's throat. Emilie did not wish to spend one second pondering if the head was still attached to the screamer's body.

After an eternity of hell, she had dragged herself up high enough to look over the fortress walls. There was a gigantic black wall, rising taller than the sky itself. Why was there a black wall?

There was a Sefiro floating a few dozen meters above her.

 _Looks shiny…_

 _Why is there a wall in the air?_

As soon as the thought crossed her mind, the barrier broke.

(break)

 **Support Velkoz's note to readers: Hi there. Thanks for reading so far as you have. If it's not obvious by now, I upload one new chapter every weekend. I will inform you if there are any schedule changes. Have a good one folks!**


	5. Chapter 5: Inquisition

**Huge thanks go out to Radioactive for inspiring Krotia and Plunos. Six for inspiring… well, Emilia. Astraeuzz for inspiring Astreuz. Asri for making me make Asri. Lovely for making me think up Lyn's role in this story. LeePrince for giving me a vision of the ill-fated Adriel (sorry darling D: ) . And that's about it. Kayle and Ana belong to Rito Gems. Have a good one folks!**

Chapter 5: Inquisition

And the sky came crashing down.

High Templar Meridius faltered as her wings fluttered weakly and carried her half way back down to the bastion. But with the last vestiges of her power, however, the Protector of Irongate summoned whatever was left of her reserves and shot a beam of brilliant golden light into the sky.

Watching from beneath her, Emilia gaped. Panic hit her like a charging Minotaur; why wasn't the High Templar pushing back the avalanche of destruction that was Mount Ashbourne?

Her answer came one second later as a golden protective barrier began covering Irongate from the ground up.

Emilia, like the countless other Sefiro around her who were still alive, heaved a collective gasp of relief and awe.

It was Divine Intervention- one of the most powerful Sefiro spells since the beginning of time, and mastered only by a few. It was a shield that could supposedly protect the shielded from anything and everything. Which indeed it was doing, now, as the ashes and lava and rock boulders came to a crashing stop yet _again_ on their path of destruction towards Irongate.

So one disaster had been averted, if only temporarily.

But what of the enemies?

Surely, the avalanche must have buried the them already, no?

The Defenders of the great fortress city got their answer one second later as Fallen soldiers began scaling over the bastion, and with one bloodthirsty battle cry swords began clashing as the war, for the first time in six thousand years, breached the walls of Irongate.

(break)

 _The Guardians Council…_

'We need the Inquisitors.'

The Sefiro saying it spoke with the conviction and finality of a decision already made, heedless of the fact that most of his five fellow Guardians were giving each other uneasy looks. Some were even squirming in their gilded seats.

Aatrox was disgusted. How such weaklings managed to ascend to the Council of Guardians was beyond him. The blade resting at his side hummed with energy. But he would have no use of it here. Aatrox was frustrated.

'No', Josephine Kayle and her husband, Josephus, both shook their heads.

'Yes', Syndra disagreed, cutting in, as she leveled a glare at the two married Guardians, 'Meridius is faltering even as we speak, and even her Divine Intervention will not last forever.'

'At most, it will buy us half a day, and even that is a huge stretch', Syndra cast her gaze across every faces in the room, as if daring them to challenge her judgment, 'either we call in the Inquisitors now and Irongate will hold…'

'…or let your _Justicars_ handle it, and Irongate will fall', Aatrox finished, giving his ally the slightest hint of a smirk. With Syndra's backing, the request should come through. And then, the Fallen would all be vanquished under the terrifying might of the Undying Scourge that was the Order of the Inquisitors.

'Syndra, Aatrox, please', there were clear traces of worry, some might even say desperation, in Josephine's voice, 'not a single Sefiro has been evacuated and all the Justicars are still fighting on the bastion. If you call in the Inquisitors now… none will survive.'

'They will all be dead. There is blood on their swords', Josephus gave Aatrox an icy stare, 'you know the Inquisitors cannot differentiate friend from foe.'

Instead of faltering at the subtle implications that he was deliberately going to order the murder of countless Sefiro, Aatrox homed in on the point. He would have his Inquisitors, at whatever cost, and he would win the war. Then he would be a hero to the people and easily make High Templar. Maybe even Judicator was within reach…

Matters of hand disrupted his fantasies, however, and the crimson-eyed Guardian was snapped back to the present.

'Precisely, but we will wipe out all of the Fallen in the valley. And as they retreat with blood on their swords, the Inquisitors will follow them all the way back to the Twilight Council.'

'We could end this accursed war right here, right now!', Syndra exclaimed gleefully, balling her hands into fists. There was a maniac-stricken glint in her eyes. The other two Guardians in the room looked between Aatrox and Syndra, and the two Kayles. They were silently hoping they would somehow not be noticed.

'Well…', Aatrox turned to them slowly, dreadfully.

'What are your opinions?'

'We will call in the Inquisitors', Syndra phrased it like a statement rather than a question, 'and we will have your assent… right?'

She added the last part as an afterthought.

Nevir and Astreuz did not appreciate the way Syndra thought of their standing, though only one immediately made her decision.

'I decide to not call in the Inquisitors', Astreuz spoke up, locking eyes with the Kayles and briefly nodding before she turned the full force of her gaze on what was in her personal opinion the war-mongering Aatrox and his equally insufferable compatriot- Syndra.

'Josephine was right, we need to give time for _our people_ to evacuate', she emphasized the point by giving the disgruntled man and woman a pointed look, 'once most of the Sefiro are safe, you can call in the Inquisitors as you wish.'

'Hmphh!', Syndra huffed, though most ignored her. Being the youngest member on the Council of Guardians, the former Mage had been promoted again and again and again as she proved her capabilities in battle, many times being almost single-handedly responsible for repulsing the waves of Fallen approaching the Dark Mountains Canyon.

A young Sefiro, and her Force of Will was already surpassing many of those far superior to her in both years and training.

Her eventual ascent to Guardian had been foreseen by Aatrox for hundreds of years, who, seeing in the younger Sefiro the same bloodlust that was the core of his being, had had quite the hand in guiding Syndra towards her eventual position.

Allies were hard to gain, especially in the Council, what with the two Kayles having dominated their seats of power for more years than Aatrox could remember. _And more years than were necessary_ , he mused from time to time.

For now, however, all eyes turned to Nevir. He, too, was a more recent addition to the Council, his place made possible by the ascent of Meridius- that being a blessing unto itself.

Meridius was the epitome of all things Sefiran, the living embodiment of Justice, an avatar of the light and a source of inspiration for all her people. That also made her annoyingly…chummy…with the two Kayles, and what with Meridius's opinion often being held in higher regard than even any two other Guardians combined Aatrox had felt isolated sitting on his seat of power.

With her rise to High Templar, however, and with the relatively un-experienced Nevir taking her place, Aatrox had dared dream for things to change.

He was to be sorely disappointed.

'I agree with Astreuz. We should… uh… evacuate our people. Yeah.', he spoke, haltingly. Aatrox saw Astreuz give the young Guardian an encouraging look and felt his patience, what little of it was left, bleed away.

'Right', he snapped, with perhaps more force than was necessary.

'It is decided, then', the two Kayles spoke as one. Astreuz nodded her ascent, eyes condescending as she managed to stare down Syndra, who was trying her best to not have an outburst.

'Fine then. Evacuate your people. We will call in the Inquisitors the second they leave.'

'…', Josephus gave Aatrox a silent look. But the look said more than whatever words could. Aatrox grimaced.

'Evacuate our people, we will.'

The subtle implications were clear in the way Astreuz implied that Aatrox saw Sefiro as people of not his own.

But he let it pass. Astreuz could act stuck up for all she wanted. She could not stop what was coming, anyways.

He would have his Inquisitors, if only a bit later.

And then, there will be blood.

He had waited for thousands of years. Half a day more would be nothing. With that thought, Aatrox reclined in his throne, one hand absent-mindedly caressing the hilt of his mighty sword as the Kayles and Astreuz filed out of the chamber, quickly followed by Nevir.

Syndra sat across from him and frowned at his smile in her typical Syndra way, Aatrox could almost feel the girl asking him telepathically just what _exactly_ there was to smile about.

The smile did not leave his face when Aatrox himself exited the chamber.

Irongate's walls might be crumbling not too far from where he stood but…

It might be a great day, after all.

(break)

 _4000 years ago, at the Keep Of Azmarin…_

 _The Justicar's breathing was ragged as he ran. While not prone to tire, as was the norms for the Sefiro race, our particular Justicar in question had been maintaining a steady running pace for the last twenty one hours, and it was beginning to cause his vision to get a little unfocussed._

 _Aatrox was carrying a vital battle order to a secret location which he had only learnt of the day before. Flying was not an option- the Fallen Arch Mages had cursed the skies above Azmarin with Torment, such that any Sefiro attempting to lift their wings would have to endure mind-numbing pain, which could be fatal if exposed to for lengths of time._

 _Thus, the high ranking Justicar had to endure the run while carrying the mass of his immense sword that was clasped to a sheath on his back, easily seven stones in weight and tall as a man._

 _The order, in itself, was odd. Aatrox had had a lot of time to mull over every written word as he ran, but he was still puzzled. Yes, he had been sent to summon units before; detachments of Justicars, units of Legionnaires, and once he had even been part of a three-man party sent to sequester the aid of Judicator Arianna to stop a massive tsunami that threatened the coastal provinces east of The Wandering Seas._

 _But never before had he been asked to go alone with such specific instructions as these. They went along the lines of;'Get to the altar. Read out the precise incantations. And no matter what happens, never withdraw your sword.'_

 _Never withdraw his sword? First of all, why? And secondly, why would there be a need to ever contemplate withdrawing his sword if he was summoning friendly forces?_

 _But being the good Sefiro soldier that he was, Justicar Aatrox did not question his orders any further, mind drifting off elsewhere as his tiring feet carried him forwards. Still, the weight of duty another burden resting on his strong shoulders as he ran._

(break)

 _At the same time, in the Institute…_

'Lyn. No', Asri groaned as she felt a pair of familiar hands snake themselves around her waist. Lyn silenced her with a nibble to the ear and cut off all attempts at resistance by cupping her girlfriend's breasts through the armored weave.

'Not here!', she hissed, even as her knees began to go weak and her sword fell slowly her side, with her hand gripping it like it was the last plank of wood and she was a sailor lost at sea.

The momen-

 **Stop.**

 **S.V's note to readers: (sappy stuff you can skip if you don't want to know about my sad life)**

 **I'm sorry.** ** _(going to unbold now)_** I can't write anymore. Something came up. Allow me to explain. A while back I fell in love with a certain someone. As I finished up Chapter 3: Lucid I professed my love. Relieved, I sped through writing 4 and was exactly at 5 above when said person took my offered heart, put it on the cold, hard ground, and drove into it with the pointy end of a serrated knife.

It will take about two more weeks for my broken heart to finish bleeding and begin to mend. On that very day I applied for and got a job at a supermarket (Cold Storage). While loading cargo is not the best job for one of my delicate and petite frame, it does take my mind off my shattered hopes and dreams. Best to keep myself busy these days.

With time, I might heal.

Maybe.

I don't know. Sorry for the short chapter.

I will resume writing as soon as I can, as said above. Until next time, have a good day folks!


	6. Chapter 6: Shattered

Chapter 6: Shattered

 _Two full moons after the Fall of Irongate..._

BAM!

She no longer winced when the massive tome was thrown recklessly onto the wooden table before her- Emilia had seen it happen dozens of time before, and it was safe to say that it no longer surprised the bound Sefiran medic.

What she was still trying to get used to, though, was the sight of the hulking Fallen pacing back and forth in front of her. Apparently sensing her gaze intently upon him, the massive brute casually leaned over the table and backhanded her across the face. The single thought 'Oh no' never had time to form; her head jerking violently to one side caused Emilia's mind to erupt with pain.

Her vision blacked out, her cheeks burnt, and it would not be an understatement to say that half her face felt like it had been ripped off. Emilia grunted out but did not scream, choosing instead to bite her tongue with her few remaining shaky teeth. And that was the smart choice; previous outbursts of screaming, cursing and/or pleading had earned her nought but a couple more friendly swats to her skull.

'Friendly', of course, being the imperative word.

Emilia could already taste the familiar coppery liquid pooling thickly in her mouth, sliding down her throat. As dark spots continued dancing in her vision while she continued reeling from the pain, the captured Sefiro had one moment of epiphany to muse with cruel irony how the blood she now swallowed was easily a thousand times thicker than the watery 'soup' her captors had force-fed down her throat for the last... days? Weeks? Months?

She could not tell; being locked in a windowless cell getting tortured daily tended to dull one's appreciation of the passing of time, as Emilia had come to notice. Not that it was important. Furthermore, there was no point of dwelling upon it; the interrogation was about to begin... yet again.

'Igor', as the bruiser preferred to be called, took his seat opposite from her and began fumbling with the clasp holding the book closed. His large, meaty fingers could not find the little catch- a pity, really, in Emilia's opinion.

She had opted to call him 'Scar-Face' pretty much the moment she met him since, well, there were probably more scars on Igor's right cheek alone than there were canyons in all of the Dark Mountains. The nickname had stuck... until the second interrogator came in- a lithe, striking Fallen who made up for her seemingly apparent lack of physical prowess with her skills in Legilimency- and rummaged through Emilia's head to look for any war information she could get her hands on.

The Fucking Bitch, as Emilia referred to her lovingly, had thought it amusing to let Igor know of the nickname Emilia had made up for him after she had milked Emilia's mind dry of anything valuable. Emi earned two backhands for her troubles; one on each cheek- she could barely part her lips for the next few days.

And such was the pattern of life in Fallen Irongate for Justicar Michael's dear sister, now proudly rechristened four-zero-three by The Fucking Bitch.

She knew they were trying to erase her identity by calling her using a number, giving her the same food, same treatment, same questions, but it had become so normal now, she cared little.

Things were normal.

Things were... _routine_.

Soup.

Sleep.

Wake.

Smack smack smack, maybe significantly more smacks if she hadn't been a _docile_ little girl to him the day before, and less if she had simply rolled over in a comatosed heap .

Soup.

Knives, scalpels, drowning exercises- mind molestation optional, if Bitch thought it worth her time to pay Emi a visit.

Soup again. And the rape.

Oh. The rape.

...

At least Igor was often merciful enough to beat her lights out before he tore into her body so Emilia couldn't feel anything that well. If not for the delibitating pain wracking her mind, she might had been able to fully understand what he did and sh-

 _No. Nothing happened. Nothing._

 _..._

 _Nothing_ , Emilia began whimpering oh-so-very-quietly to herself as she rocked a little on her seat. Back and forth. Back and forth.

Across from her, 'Igor' had finished opening the book after seventy three years of hard work and now sat back, staring at her balefully.

Seeing that far-away look in the wretch's visage told him that she wouldn't notice if he sighed. She must be re-living a nightmare again or something; stupid girl always did that even though she must know it was not good for her. But whatever, Igor grunted loudly as he flipped to the second page and crossed out the seventeenth date that was written, and below it, clumsily wrote today's date.

Maybe eighteenth time would be the lucky charm. Even if it was the eighteenth of the second month. Igor grinned to himself as he finally managed to etch the words onto paper. Writing got easier everyday- a sure sign that he was becoming a better soldier, at least in Igor's mind.

The hulking bruiser frowned a little as he eyed the girl before him. The pencil was a bit small for him but... it would have to do.

Igor considered carefully as Emilia's fazing out continued. Slapping her again would be most unprofessional of him; one backhand in the morning was the extent of pleasantries he had adhered to for the past weeks, and he would hate himself just a little to have to break it but...

The bruiser who preferred to have himself called 'Igor' leaned over the table.

It was a pity- the medic before him did have a very pretty face, a great figure and what were once beautiful white wings, but now severely malnourished she was just a walking skeleton with some flesh.

A walking skeleton he liked to cum in- granted. Igor hovered for one moment, indecision etched on his rather large face.

 _But ahh_... no mercy for pawns of the tyrants. In the end, he did rather enjoy showing the simpering mess before him just who was boss.

And really, the wretched Sefiro didn't have that many teeth left to lose anyways.

(break)

 _An indeterminable period of time later..._

Her prison tunic tore easily. Even in her weakened state, she would have been able to tear through it if she had closed both eyes and summoned all the strength she had while chanting Judicator Arianna's name for extra conviction.

As such, Igor simply ripped it off her with a flick of the wrist, tossing her solitary garment to one side of the small cell without so much as a glance.

But that was to be expected. He only had eyes on her; naked, vulnerable, alone... _his._

Emilia knew she shouldn't look up. He was shedding his own garments, the brute's breathing growing more heavily by the second. Just the sight of her naked body- deprived as it was- and he was already salivating.

 _No._

Like he always did.

Igor always salivated.

She backed into a corner as he stepped towards her. Her gaze went up, up, up. But only high enough to see the brute's massive right arm jerking his hardened member in her direction. It was almost as large as her wrist and just as thick. It jerked as if having a mind of its own. It wanted to impale her. She knew as much.

Like an accusing finger pointing at the judged, the condemned.

Slowly.

 _No._

Her gaze went elsewhere. Anywhere. _Nowhere_... No windows to look out of. No ceiling to study because it was oh so dark. He was too big. Too massive. He blocked her vision so all she could- would see, was him.

Closing her eyes only amplified her hearing, sounds that... _No._

 _No..._

Her wings. Igor always liked to grab her wings as he laid on her, suffocating her with his weight, stabbing her, rutting into her and tearing her insides apart.

He was too heavy. Why didn't he understand? She had begged.

 _No._

And begged.

 _No..._

And begged.

 _N-_

He giggled like a youngling- he liked to hear her beg. It took her more time to understand.

Emilia didn't beg anymore.

The brute flipped her over and entered her from behind. Sounds echoed well in the small confined space. Grunts. Gasps. Moans. Someone somewhere sometime breathed _'Yes yes yes!'_ Hers or not hers?

Who gives a damn?

Her frazzled, dead hair was grabbed as the fucker pulled her head back and bit down on her shoulder. With reckless abandon Igor licked, sucked, chewed on the nape of her neck, her ears, her collarbone. Saliva dripped freely from his maw and coated her shoulders in a disgusting, smelly layer of it.

 _No._

His massive palm encircled her head. Emi found her face smashed into the ground.

The world disappeared. Sadly, for only a few seconds.

 _Kill me now._

Her bloodied forehead rammed against the fortress's obsidian walls again, and again, and again.

And again.

Darkness gave way to... light. Was it light? Emilia ...didn't care. All was the same. There was no such thing as light.

She giggled like a little girl.

But she didn't scream anymore.

Perhaps... perhaps it was better that way.

 _No._

 _Please._

Emilia didn't scream anymore.

(break)

 _The next... day? Night?..._

The surroundings refused to change as she woke. Disappointment had long since given way to acceptance. Furthermore, Emi could sympathize with her stubborn surroundings. No matter the time of day, darkness tended to stay the same- dark. She would have been naive to expect anything else.

'It's ookie', she giggled at the darkness, 'i'm not upset with you or anything.'

'You are completely fucking mental, four-o-three,' the darkness spoke back.

Emilia jumped so high her head hit the low ceiling of the cell. Caked blood gave way to a fresh trickle as her head wound opened up again. Emilia winced but before she took further not of the pain she had scampered off into a corner of the cell on all fours like an animal, cowering into a fetal ball as she covered her own eyes and turned away from where the voice had spoken.

'Hmm,' the darkness breathed out. 'Don't be scared. I don't bite.'

It was getting closer.

 _Oh no. No ! Help !_

Where was her sword !? Wait. Did she carry a sword? Or was it a knife? It was definitely a knife. Where was her knife? WHERE WAS HER CLOTHES?

 _NO!_

 _PLEASE!_

'Say, four-o-three, did you manage to enjoy it?' The darkness was right next to her now. No. It was all around her. Emi had nowhere to turn to- to hide. Where was Michael ?! He promised he would always protect her. Where was he?

Emilia began moaning. Her eyes had become wet for some inexplicable reasons. The tears carved rivers down her dirt-caked face.

'... i could hear the moans from all the way down in the interrogarion room. Through layers of stone, at that.'

It was touching her now. Emilia shook like a leaf in the wind. She trembled like a wooden plank in a storm-tossed sea. Like a downed Justicar swarmed by a thousand Inquisitors.

'Four-o-three,' it spoke with a surprisingly feminine voice, 'i'm here to give you one wish.'

The Sefiran medic was beyond delirious now, as she cried out loudly and her hands fell to her sides. There was no point in resisting the darkness. She could not fight it. She was not strong enough. Why was she still there? It should all be over already.

 _I'm so sorry._

A slap across the face brought her back into her senses. With the pain came focus. Focus, and remembrance. The welcoming pull of insanity waned and Emilia quietly whimpered her loss. Madness also sighed as its grip on her became dislodged. The darkness's breath tickled Emilia's runny nose.

Then came the memories.

The siege. Irongate. Ashbourne. Meridius. The fall. Torture. Her mind. Questions. Resistance. Rape.

And I-igor.

...

 _Igor._

She let out a blood curling scream and struck at the darkness. It stopped her strike and jumped on her, crushing her body against its own... surprisingly light one.

It wasn't Igor.

The darkness was much more insistent now as it spoke. It smelled nice. It was soft. Warm. Delicate fingers wrapped firmly around her throat and forced her head back.

Emilia continued bawling.

'Four-o-three!' it hissed. 'You have one wish. Choose. Quick!'

'Kill me,' she cried. Sobbed. Honestly what was the difference between crying and sobbing? It didn't matter. She did both.

Emilia could feel the darkness's weight lift off her. It shuffled quietly away.

'Good.'

And then the darkness was replaced by the darkness- that friend of Emilia's. The voice disappeared into a wisp of black smoke and escaped through the cracks under the iron door.

The Sefiran medic was too far gone to hear the smirk in Krotia's voice.

'There is blood on my head,' she spoke after a long while and to no one in particular.

...

...

...

'Hey! Where's Adriel?'

(break)

 **S.V's note to readers: (TL;DR i am sick in the head)**

 **Hello there folks! It looks like i lied after all! Not only did the chapter not take 2 weeks, it took less than one. I have quickly found someone new to fill the void in my little six-year-old heart. Goes by the name D**********e. Now this chapter is just dark, even for me, and it would have been impossible to write if i was my normal imperious six-year-old self. Luckily, i had just been heartbroken, was feeling very very very hurt, upset, betrayed and that helped fuel the negativity with which allowed me to imagine myself in Emilia's shoe (not so far from the truth). It was dark and i know it. I hope you enjoyed the cruelty and depravity though. Until next time, have a good one folks!**


	7. Chapter 7: Undone

**So i just woke up at 7.30 a.m. I went on LoL to say good morning to people and maybe check out Warring Kingdom skins. Then my S.O told me this through chat the moment i went online:**

 **[7:59AM] D**********e: im gonna fuckk the shitt outta you.**

 **you hear?**

 **[7:59AM] support velkoz: o-okay.** **this is not how one starts the day**

 **[8:00AM] D**********e: sex doesnt only happen at night sweetie.**

 **Yes. It is only 8 in the morning. Yes, i'm still sleepy. But i'm horny beyond hell and... six-year-old me live on emotions after all. Sorry if the chapter is a bit short. I live for the feels, live for the emotions- live in the moment or (in my opinion) never live at all.**

Chapter 7: Undone

The radiant dawn cast its light over Citadel's peacefully sleeping people as brilliant shafts of golden light beamed in through windows everywhere to herald the start of a new day.

It was barely past six; most civilians were still lying in bed, swords already clashed on the Institute's grounds, Judicator Arianna was quietly enjoying a cup of tea, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips, seated across from her queen-consort somewhere within the Palace. Over head, indifferent clouds coalesced, de-coalesced, and drifted about on their merry way. In the secret dungeons below Citadel ,Inquisitor Ganja snorted as he drew stick figures on the obsidian wall with his swords.

It was, in short, just another normal day for Sefiran Aerilion.

Asri sighed with contentment and stroked the young angel's soft blonde hair. Morgana purred in her sleep and held on tighter to her mentor.

 _'Don't ever let me go'_ , her little angel had whispered fervently as she shook uncontrollably and her eyes rolled into the back of her head; overwhelmed by the waves of pleasure coursing through her from top to toe all thanks to the skillful ministrations of Asri's fingers.

 _Ahh... slow and steady..._

A master bladeswoman could also be a master cunninglinguist, an expert fingering sensei, an accomplished ear-nibbler.

Or so Asri had discovered, as she manipulated the young thing below her like a rag doll through one orgasm after another, filling her with so much pleasure she would have been able to milk every secret from her grateful plaything; secure every vow of allegiance; even get her Ana to pledge her life to her new master.

What made Asri smile and feel warm inside was the fact that even _after_ the glorious love-making, even as they laid on the bed holding onto each other, kissing happily in a warm little bundle of female flesh as they indulged in post-coital bliss, her Ana said the same thing to her over and over again.

Clearly, thus, it had not been the lust - induced ramblings of a young Sefiro overwhelmed by pleasure. No, her Ana really did love her. Asri let her hands run along her young lover's soft, smooth back. Her palm cupped a delightfully firm ass, squeezing ever so lightly. The nude body besides her was perfect to a fault. So soft. So smooth. So young and pretty and delicious...

Best of all, it now belonged to _her_.

 _All of it._

Lazy fingers trailed over young, turgid nipples; made hardened by the cool of the lifting morning mist and the cold air of the leaving night; the balcony door had been left ajar as the master bladeswoman ravaged her young ward to the latter's eager acceptance the night before.

In any event, the cold air had been much needed; half an hour in and the sheets were drenched in sweat, giggles and a copious amount of sexual fluids. And that was not counting the next two hours...

Young breasts fit neatly in her calloused palms. Her Ana mumbled sleepily, shifting even closer to lean into her mentor's touch. Not that it was possible, really; they were already holding each other nose to nose.

And now, lips to lips, as Asri detected the tiniest fluttering of her Ana's eyelids and immediately swooped in to deliver her morning kiss to now inert, unresponsive lips.

Inert unresponsive lips that quickly and eagerly parted as soon as their owner had the first notion of what was going on to let the elder Sefiro's warm, wet tongue invade Morgana's oral cavern. Asri crawled on top of her young ward, sliding one leg between her Ana's own to part them before insistently pressing against the girl's womanhood with her knee.

Morgana was a bundle of nerves; she was sensitive _everywhere_ to touch. Having her clit assaulted so early in the morning left her unable to suppress a sleepy gasp; one that only allowed her vivacious lover even further into her mouth.

Her tongue awakening, Morgana fought back. Tried. But she was both groggy, inexperienced, and positively glowing from being freshly fucked... a.k.a tired. As such, in the bed, as in the courtyards of the Institute, Morgana let herself be disarmed and plundered by her lover; the beautiful, skilled master bladeswoman cum lover that was Asri.

To be fair, it felt _very_ nice.

She giggled softly, wide young eyes peering up at the heavenly visage above her as Asri leaned back and straddled Morgana's hips.

High, regal cheekbones below piercing, playful amber eyes led down to a smooth long neck at the base of which there was... ahh... the love bite that she had marked Asri with. Perky nipples on slight pink areolas stood out on firm, compact jutting breasts. A solid expanse of stomach beckoned her lustful gaze down, down, down to the...

'Good mornin' ', her mentor husked. There was an evil twinkle in her eyes as she began grinding herself _oh-so-subtly_ against Morgana's mound.

Heat flushed Morgana's cheeks as she watched her mentor tilt her head back and let out a lustful moan, her gyrating hips driving both of them mad with the building pressure in their loins. Brilliant sunlight bathed Asri in a golden glow from the shoulder up.

The sun was rising over Aerilion, Morgana realised.

'So what would you like for breakfast?' Asri smiled, eyes closed. _So close now... so close..._

'You.' Was the solitary answer as she felt petite hands reach up to fondle her breasts. Her own hands cupped her Ana's face as she leaned down and kissed her little Sefiro on the forehead.

'Mhm... I would like that, yes.'

It would not be the last sex they had that morning.

But let's be honest; no one's keeping count anyways.

(break)

 _Asri's living room, same day..._

The exhausted girl lie prone next to her on the couch, lips moving wordlessly as she mumbled in her sleep. Soft, feminine snores could be heard coming from the sweet little thing. Asri sighed with happiness as she leaned against the cushions and watched sunlight fade, one hand idly stroking her Ana's hair.

It had certainly been an... interesting two months, yes. Two fun-filled months. Two crazy months. Two months of fucking the brains out of a girl one quarter her age, perhaps. She sighed softly at that. Age be damned...

But it was still a good two months as far as intelligence gathering had gone; having sex regularly with and earning the undying loyalty of her Ana was just the icing on the cake.

In fact, with Irongate falling to her brethren and three dead Guardians thanks to the handiwork of her sister things were _more_ than great. If anything, Asri should celebrate. Knowing she had the younger sister of the Judicator's most promising lieutenant wrapped around her finger was in itself enough reason to throw a party for her alone.

A smug smile on her lips, the 'Sefiran' master bladeswoman ran her hands along the young girl's thigh and reached for the moist wetness between her sleeping plaything's legs.

With a leisure pace she began pumping first one, and then two digits in and out. In and out. Soon her Ana had awakened and attempted to shoot her a cheeky grin, but the addition of the third finger to plunder into her depths cut off all attemtps at speaking.

Asri was pretty sure it cut off all the youngling's thoughts as well. She dared bet.

The miserable yet endearing bag of flesh writhed like a fish stuck on dry land underneath the skilful ministrations of her deft fingers. Gasping, moaning her name. Begging for release. _Good_. She liked to hear her Ana beg. But she also loved torturing her little plaything; if only for a little while more.

'Please...', Morgana mewled, her back arching impossibly as the pent up pressure in her loins kept her right on the edge. Release. She wanted, needed release. But the fingers were undulating- they did not speed up to bring her that pressure she craved for with every nerves in her being.

'Please', she begged to Asri's impassive stare.

Oh, she loved this alright. Morgana was such a simple creature. Granted, that was to be expected; she was but a child in Sefiran, and indeed, Fallen, years. But such a simple creature was something Asri had not seen in all her years of espionage. It made it _soooooo_ simple to entrap her. Show the young thing something amazing, something incredible beyong belief; pleasure. The girl would make her own descent into Asri's web. It was as simple as that.

Take a grown woman's experience in sex, minus it from the naivety of the _once-blushing-virgin_ that was her Ana and you would get the greatest possible sum of sexual gratification. Asri relished the thought that should her Ana live a long life every _single_ woman she would ever sleep with would be compared to her; Asri- Morgana's first. And of course Asri would always come out the winner; the little thing's heart belonged well and truly to her to do with as she pleased, after all.

Morgana had initially appealed to her as she stood by the Institute's gate daily simply watching the flow of people. No particular reason for that- she usually finished her spying by the time afternoon came around and she could just have opted to go home and prepare for the more covert operations that night time demanded. Not that the Institute itself offered much in the way of intelligence anyways; the meat of the matter was often in the Palace itself.

But Asri liked watching people. In many ways the clueless Sefiro were just like her; they looked the same, after all, even down to the wings. And that was just fine. The only meaningful difference was in their beliefs- where ignorant Sefiro believed in the rule of one; tyranny, really- the Fallen believed in rule by Council, rule by vote, rule by the people's choice.

Asri frowned a cute little frown as her thoughts side-tracked. Her Ana only whimpered even further underneath her. _Cute._

Freedom was a virtue all of her people believed in. Likewise the Sefiro- but they only went as far as preaching that holy virtue; they never practised it.

They were stupid. But of course, everyone knew that.

They were a bunch of insufferable fools and they didn't even know it. Her Ana's big sister was one of those types.

Thinking of Kayle gave Asri a brilliant idea. She slowed the thrusting of her fingers down even further to the point that Morgana's walls tightened and released her digits each time with an almost mournful _squelch!_ Her Ana's sexual fluids weeped freely from the gaping hole as Asri's free thumb massaged her young ward's erect clit; eliciting moans of her name over, and over, and over again.

It was about as obscene as obscene could get. But for the sister of famous Fallen assassin Krotia, limits were meant to be broken. Obscenity became Asri.

'Mhm...what would Kayle think if she found you like this, huh?', she whispered into the moaning girl's ears. Tears ran down her Ana's cheek. She had hung on the cusp of orgasm for a full minute now and her insides burnt with the desire to be released. A desperate hand shot forward to force her mentor's cruel, cruel fingers to penetrate her harder, faster. But the hand was grabbed and pinned beside her head by the wrist. 'What would she think if she sees you pinned, helpless, by the kitty, under me- your supposed teacher and guide?'

Morgana mewled pitifully as she felt the lapping waves of ecstasy flirt at the nerves of her wet slit, only to skip away again. She was burning; warm wet cavern oozing her excitement onto the couch without restraint. 'What would our Justicar-apprentice say?', murmured Asri, nibbling on her Ana's right ear.

Too much.

It was too much. Too dirty. Too wrong. And yet _so right_. All at the same time.

'Scream my name', whispered a Goddess in her ear.

 _Yes!_ Morgana cried. _Yes!_

The fingers probing inside her clenching walls were insignificant now. With a guttural moan Morgana came, shuddering uncontrollably as her orgasm finally claimed her. It swept over her like a tsunami; erasing all thoughts, all emotions, all of who she was. There was nothing in her left. She had come her soul right out of her pussy. Or so it felt like until the only thing left in the world was her lips and voice and mouth and vocal chords screaming moaning shouting 'Asri Asri Asri'.

 _Yes!Yes! Yes!_

'Asri!', the youngling screamed her name. She convulsed almost uncontrollably, her pussy walls clamping with a vice-like grip on her three slim digits. The wrist held restrained in her grasp shook like a pebble on the slopes of a land-sliding mount Ashbourne. That is to say; very much. Almost so much she lost her grip. Asri had very little doubt that if Morgana's hand got free it would wack her in the mouth; the poor girl had immensely powerful orgasms and lost control of her body easily when drowned in ecstasy.

But like Asri had promised herself, limits were meant to be broken.

With the wicked-est grin since unto time immemorial, Asri decided with evil relish to, at that very moment, finally speed up the thrusting of her fingers into the loins of her faithful student. Oh, this was just too good. Asri thought. Played like a fiddle. Jerked like a puppet on strings. Poor girl never realised what she was being subjected to she thought it was pleasure...

 _Pfff..._

Breath caught in her throat as the second orgasm crashed into her, cleaning sanity out the door, Morgana thrashed _off_ the couch, the juice-coated slick fingers sliding out of her with a hellishly-obscene _pop!_

She continued cumming, twitching on the floor like a dying wind-up toy with its key running the final clockwise lap. Twitch. Jerk. Twitch. All the while reeling from the indescribably satisfying fuck she had just been blessed with.

Asri pondered four seconds, then deigned to lick the mildewy juice off her fingers.

 _Mhm...And now, for the final blow._

'I think she would join us, sweetie', Asri giggled.

...

Morgana was lost.

To this woman.

 _Forever._


	8. Chapter 8: Ayla

Chapter 8: Ayla

 _No fucking way. Praise the lady. But no fucking way..._ Krotia sighed a soul-rending sigh as she questioned fate for the umpteenth time that day, her reluctant feet carrying her equally reluctant body forward, surrounded by a phalanx of the Dark Lady's Imperial Battle-Magi; the finest mages in the land. Why a squad of thirteen escorts was needed for one person was beyond her; the Dark Lady was an enigma.

Why she had been summoned right as she was about to take a long-overdue holiday was also baffling, as well. Her next mission, due to start in three weeks' time, had been re-assigned. For all intents and purposes, Krotia was out of a job.

It was shaping up to be a very, _very_ weird day. Interesting dependent.

The castle's interior didn't help her mood, either. Although that should have been obvious.

Krotia had long since given up on feeling inadequate; being surrounded by so much wanton opulence disoriented the assassin in strange ways and the soft footfalls of booted feet on the lush carpet which itself probably cost more than she would earn in a lifetime only served to remind her that she was insignificant in every ways possible.

But to be fair, the castle had been designed with that very goal in mind; massive wall-high tapestries showing portraits of Dark Ladies before stared down at her imperiously, immortal arch mages hovered to and fro, the very air they breathed out infused with magic, towering above them all. Every corner was made of silver; every doorway arches of gold; gemstones set along the walls gave illumination through enchanted, magical light. Even the foot soldiers guarding the gates wore the finest armor and spot-clean boots; spot-clean boots that demonstrated their zero experience in any kind of realistic battle. _Bunch of retards..._

Krotia had allowed herself a little smirk at that.

But the best part, in her opinion- the saving grace of this gigantic farce of a waste of monies better spent on other things like improving the quality of the fucking food on the frontline- the best part was that everything. The armor, the tapestry, the carpet, the wall paint, the light from the gemstones, the scabbards of the soldiers' swords...

Everything was _pink_.

Pink!

From under the shadowy hoods of their dark robes even Krotia could feel the Battle Mages all cringe as they led her up the final step leading into the castle grounds and after one moment of pin drop silence she broke out in hysterics, giggling kike she never did before as the Dark Castle before her radiated with a vibrant, positive pink. This Dark Lady was something else entirely, alright. Even the news of her being summoned to stand before the ruler of the Fallen Empire alone no longer rattled her as much; her curiosity at what the Dark Lady would be like won out over the butterflies fluttering joyfully in her stomach at this point.

Krotia had to admit that she was never one to give half a shit about politics. Her orders came from the Twilight Council; some said it was the real power behind the throne- others begged to differ. She cared about that as much as she cared about the way Igor was treating their last remaining prisoner after Irongate; hardly a modicum. Although four-o-three did look rather appealing lying on her arse in that stinky little cell, Krotia had to admit in a rare moment of self-reflection.

However, being on the front for the last years didn't necessarily mean she would be totally ignorant of all the happenings back home; there had been much fanfare a couple years ago due to the coronation of the new Dark Lady; Dark Lady Ayla the Sixth. She particularly remembered that because the Sefiro holed up at Irongate had decided to assault the Fallen encampments that very day amidst roasted lambs and free-flowing drinks. Blood had been the flavor of the day at the end of it all; her knives had found good uses.

The previous Dark Lady, Evelin the Third, had passed on due to a mysterious disease. Probably the exact same one that had afflicted and claimed every single Dark Lady before her; and would continue to claim the lives of everyone after, yada yada yada, unto time immemorial. Really, the Fallen reign had been steadfast for so long it often felt like the same Dark Lady continued ruling eon after eon, with only a change in the way she was being addressed. It was none of her business but... sometimes she cared more than Krotia would like to admit.

The concession halted before massive gold ornate doors. The black trims of it pulsed with life; magic, dark magic, Krotia realized; dark magic that responded to their presence by moving the door on its hinges, opening it oh-so-very-slowly. Krotia fingered the air around her hips, anxiously running her hand over what should have been the hilt of her trusty knives -taken away from her long ago as a 'security precaution'- and waited with bated breath.

Her sister would have chided her for looking like a finicky assassin on her first mission, judging from the way her eyes darted all over and her left pinkie trembled slightly.

Of course Krotia was none of that.

She just really wanted to know what her new ruler looked like.

(break)

 _3 hours ago, Dark Castle, Dark Lady Ayla the Sixth's Personal Grand Breakfast Hall..._

'I'll have the spaghetti and meatballs, ayyyyyyy, get them outta here biggggg boysssss, huehuehuehuehue', cackled Ayla as she jumped onto Li's head and pulled his lips a part to make a big shit-eating grin appear. There was a maniacal smirk on her face, an insane glazed look upon her visage and a steak knife hovering through sheer force of will behind her head.

Li felt tomato spatter onto the collar of his uniform as Ayla shoved a juicy meatball into her little mouth with her hand and _'om nom nom'_ rather audibly besides his ear. Giggling 'he he', through her filled mouth, the sixth Ayla in the line of the proud Empire pressed on her babysitter's back.

Li, resigned to his fate, fell over like a big black bear shot in the nuts with a tranquilizer harpoon gun and buried his face deep in toasts and eggs as the little girl on his head grabbed his long proud mane and jerked it like she was a dragon rider.

'Forward, my trusty steed!', she proclaimed as she snatched the knife out of the air and wiggled her butt. 'Charge!'

'Ayyyyyyy!', she urged him as he took one second to comprehend.

Ah, so he was a horse now then. He sighed in his head but smiled. Truly, his Dark Lady's imagination was boundless. Letting out a neigh, or as good a neigh as a seven foot two giant like him could muster with his deep baritone voice, Li hefted the entire girl's weight up with the mere lifting of his head and began galloping somewhat awkwardly around the eating hall. Thank the Lady, the servants and maids were dismissed; any and all would have been mortified to see their Dark Lady's childish antics so early in the day- the sun had just risen.

'Augh!', Ayla yelped as she slipped off him and hurtled towards the ground. Before she was even half way there though, one giant palm had caught her and put her back onto her 'mount'.

'Thanks Li Prince!', Ayla exclaimed happily as she giggled and levitated an entire plate of bacon to his forehead level. 'Here! Have some food!'

Li cringed slightly. He really did not like being called 'Prince', of all things. Lady forbid, where had she even come up with that? The kitchen staff, the palace maids, three Imperial Battle Magi and even _Xeroth_ , the arch-mage responsible for guarding her majesty's toy room, had begun snickering and calling him Li Prince when they knew he could hear them. Very mature of that lot, and to think the Magus in charge of the 9000 toys collection was seven hundred and one years old. Ah... what a beautiful life.

He also pondered whether he should inform his Dark Lady that, sadly, no, horses do not eat bacon, but thought twice about it. The bacon was rather good, he dared bet; incompetent cooks got thrown to the Ravagers often and they had been getting more restless in recent days- a sure sign that cooks were improving massively.

As he got his teeth around one piece of bacon, the entire plate dropped. With a _crash!_ and heart-wrenching sounds of broken cutlery, one tenth of the breakfast foods were decimated. _Yay. More monies to be spent on replenishing the kitchen collection._ The reason for the falling bacon had to do with Ayla focusing her attention elsewhere. Li felt his feet leave the ground as the girl's grip on his beard tightened. It hurt a little but he quickly realized he was being lifted off the ground.

'Dark Lady?'

'Shh... worry not, trusty steed! We shall jump over this canyon together!', she giggled on top of him as her voice grew thick with the pooling of intense magical energies, giving it an ethereal, other-worldly quality.

'Wha- WHOOSH!', his voice was drowned out as he felt his body being sucked into a tight tube. Purple and black flashes filled his vision as his voice died in his throat. The sensation of Ayla gripping his hair was gone, replaced by a weird sensation of nothingness.

One second later, the black portal spit them out onto a cliff overlooking the remnants of Mount Ashbourne.

...

The Dark Mountains canyon stretched out below, easily hundreds of feet wide and dozens of time as deep.

'Jump!', she cried with joy and dug her hands into his scales. She had weighed practically nothing before, but now his Dark Lady felt positively weightless on his back.

 _Scales?_

Li took one wondrous moment to examine his gigantic clawed hands and felt the taste of fire broiling in his throat. He snorted without meaning to and steam shot forth from his barrel-sized nostrils.

The pebbles he exhaled on melted into orange little puddles.

 _Wow_...

He stretched his wings and moved forward one ginger step. Something was different with his vision... it was not wrong though, just... _different_. Li finally understood what true tunnel vision felt like; he could only see straight ahead. _Weird..._ The shadow of the dragon blocked the light from entering half the valley below.

Li launched off the cliff, massive wings spreading to full span as he caught the first updraft and flew upwards over Irongate, Dark Lady Ayla's excited yipping music to his ears as she raved with excitement.

'Oh yeah, that's right!', she yipped. 'Get 'em outta here biggggger boiss. Heheheheheheheeee!'

The sounds were alien to him. Li didn't really understand the tongue. But compelled by duty and loyalty, he readily agreed with his Dark Lady's command to 'Get 'em outta here biggerrrr boiss'. It had a nice ring to it. Even if it made about as much sense as... well... nothing.

Looked like Ayla did get to ride a dragon, after all.

(break)

 _Back to the present…_

'All hail our Dark Lady, Empress of the free people, Vanquisher of the Sefiran Scourge, Mistress of the Black Arts, Vanguard against the Void, Tamer of the Ravager Horde, kneel, before Ayla the Sixth!'

Krotia heard the shuffling of fabric around her as no doubt everyone in her entourage also kneeled and bowed before their Dark Lady. Her eyes peeled to the ground; Krotia heard, rather than saw, her ruler stride towards her.

The footfalls were soft, exquisitely so- a small surprise for the assassin; her new Dark Lady surely had some really dainty little feet to walk to softly. A shadow stopped in front of her and little feet in crystalline heels came into her field of vision.

 _Little feet !?_

'Ahh! Is this Crotia ?', a delightful little girl yipped from somewhere above her.

 _What the fuck?_

For one brief moment Ayla wondered if she was dreaming. First of all, why was there what could only be a little girl's chirpy voice towering over her; where was the Dark Lady? And secondly of all, Crotia. Really? That made her name sound like a place or something- utterly _atrocious._

As if to pile glory upon glory, she felt a small hand find its way onto her head.

*pat pat*

Did the little brat really just _pat HER HEAD?_

'I like your hair Crotia!', the little girl giggled. Krotia's eyes widened to saucer-like proportions; not out of surprise though, but rather out of outrage. It was not an understatement to say no man or woman has touched a hair on her head, _literally,_ and gotten away with it. No living ones, that is.

 _Did she just pat my hair?!_

In an alternate universe where the court announcer was currently excusing himself to go to the toilet, Krotia would have sprung up from her kneeling position, grab Dark Lady Ayla the Sixth by the throat and pinned the eleven year old girl to the ground to the mortified gasps of the battle Magi contingent. Too shocked to react to the suddenness of Krotia's actions despite their years of training; the battle Magi were only beginning to gather magical powers in their fists when a surprised and yelping Ayla's eyes would turn into purple bottomless pits and black tendrils would issue forth from the very air around them; as if conjured into existence through the opening of mini-portals to another dark dimension. Said tendrils would disembowel Krotia before she could even see them coming and toss her ruptured body well across the court to hit the distant wall seventy three feet away at five meters of height and hit with a sickening _crunch!_ before her lifeless body would crumple to the ground. Utterly broken. And very, very dead. Then, before the slack-jawed Imperial Battle Magi, the dozens of black tendrils would retreat through quickly-closing dark portals and the Dark Lady's eyes would return to their normal state to leave a happily giggling Ayla skipping over to Krotia to survey her handiwork. Suffice to say, the Imperial Battle Mages in that court would never look at their Dark Lady the same way again.

As it was, in _this_ universe, things were much more sunshine-and-rainbows in nature, and as Krotia was only thinking of jumping onto the offensive 'little brat', the court announcer who- thankfully- was not in the toilet, announced to Krotia to rise before her Empress.

It took her two and a half seconds to comprehend.

But she did not rise.

…

It was hard to rise when the Dark Lady put her hand very insistently on your head and took great delight in ruffling her hair. _What am I, a dog now !?_

And there it was again, Praise the Lady; another pat.

*pat pat*

She couldn't see or hear what the mages were saying, but she had an absolute conviction in the fact that the whole lot was giggling like morons on the inside as they watched with stolen glances how Krotia- famed assassin; right- some said it was left but seriously who gives a fuck- hand of the Twilight Council, was kneeling before and being patted like a little puppy by a positively beaming Dark Lady Ayla. The sixth, yes.

She rose.

To the mouth.

To the nose.

To the eyes.

Then _above_ the eyes.

 _Wait what !?_

Krotia, even at her diminutive five foot three, found herself staring down at the gigantic puppy dog eyes of her Dark Lady staring back up. Intense blue, the irises of which was colder than the coldest ice peaks of Mount Idra and yet- at the same time- radiating warmth; into which Krotia somehow felt herself being drawn, framed nicely by jet black hair and a cute little button nose above little pouting lips. She was leaning forward before she knew what she was doing- the Dark Lady's eyes were pulling her in, in, _in…_ The abyss beckoned to her with images of her and Asri happily playing together in their younger days. _When our mother was still around…._ Her mom reached her hands out to her and little six-year-old Krotia found herself running towards her mother's open embrace. Her mother smiled… _rows of razor sharp and clawed hands reached out to her. Come, Krotia… come to me._

She snapped out of it just as she was almost nose to nose with the Empress herself and jerked back.

Her back hit against an invisible barrier and she managed to stand up. Whipping around, she could see the very air itself had turned purple with magic and supported her. Turning back she yelped in the most uncharacteristic way possible as she found her Dark Lady's maniacally grinning visage pressed up almost right to hers yet again. The teeth were gone, the claws were gone. There was only the radiantly smiling little girl beaming up at her. For one moment Krotia doubted her sanity. Just as quickly as the thought came to her mind, it left.

'D-dark Lady', Krotia found herself stuttering as she immediately kneeled before her Empress again. She had to do something; anything, to break away from that hypnotic gaze- her very soul had been siphoned; or so it felt like. It was a disturbing technique even she- after six years of intensive training- was only beginning to grasp. That her Dark Lady was able to do so to her already was very unnerving.

From the sidelines deep within one of the shadowy cul-de-sacs, Li watched the proceedings and sighed. That assassin, that Krotia- she had turned a brighter beet red than the reddest red as his Dark Lady began patting her hair. While he could sympathize with Krotia to a certain extent, he was happy enough with standing where he was and observing Ayla's antics.

They could always be counted on to make him smile.

(break)

 **S.V's note to readers: (shout out to Six for inspiring the bulk of this chapter. And leeprince too. And xerath. Muahahahahaha.)**

 **So yes! That will conclude chapter 8. A considerably more happy and light hearted one than probably all of the rest of them. While originally planned to be 7000 words, which is more than twice the length of this, League got in the way; I'm gold 4 trying to break gold 3 now; and I'm spending less time writing. As always, until next week, have a good one folks!**


	9. Chapter 9: Broken

**s.v's note to readers:** **Now I never ever put warnings before my chapters. However, I do feel like this chapter deserves one such warning. So… be warned folks :D . But first of all huge thanks and shout outs to BeastyFalls for inspiring Tia. The name Tia was partly taken from part of the word Innocentiae, which is Latin for innocence, and partly because I needed a dark version of Krotia and.. and I just ducking took the last three letters of her name to create her alter-ego. RIP. An apt name, considering her personality.**

Chapter 9: Broken

These days, the hot buns were as alien to her as the sight of light.

Emilia stared blankly at them for a full minute. Just as Igor leaned over the table and showed the first sign of wanting to give her a friendly swat, the… woman? It was definitely a woman. The woman at his side put up a restraining hand to stay his blow.

'No.'

Emilia's gaze flickered to the female Fallen. There was nothing particularly outstanding about her. Purple robes, face mostly hidden by a hood. Petite. No weapons to speak of, although concealed ones were not to be discounted. Female. Twirling a pencil in her little hands.

'She's mine.'

If Emilia reacted at all to that statement, she did not show it. She continued staring blankly at the steaming hot bun in front of her, one eye twitching just ever so slightly.

A short moment of silence followed. Igor's hand dropped back to his side. Even without looking, she could feel the brute's eyes tracking, mentally-undressing… ravishing her body. A palpable tension hung in the still air of the room. The female Fallen continued twirling her pencil, as if oblivious to all.

Tia raised one eyebrow at Igor, expectant. He did not get the hint, eyes too intent on trying to pierce the prisoner's tattered robes to get a better look at her shriveled breasts. It was almost cringe-y to the point of being painful to watch. Really, why did the quality of wardens have to be so embarrassing; even the wretched Sefiro's prison wardens were better than this- Tia reflected from experience.

A more observant person would have commented that Igor was a necrophiliac; each day the former Sefiran medic inched closer to the world of the dead than the living and yet he showed no qualms about rutting in the shell that was once Emilia.

'Leave us', Tia said at last, as she stopped playing with her pencil. Begrudgingly; almost reluctantly, even, Igor got up to leave.

'And do me a favor- tell Plunos to bring me my tools,' she said before Igor was out of the door. With a grunt, he was gone.

The door closed loudly.

Emilia's eyes did not leave the tasty-looking bundle of food in front of her. It was almost within reach. All she would have to do was shoot out her hands, grab it, shove it in her face and take one huge bite before the female Fallen could stop her. Then she might get slapped, beaten, having her ribs kicked in; but she would at least get to swallow the food. It would only take her one second…

'Eat.'

 _What?_

For the first time, Emilia met her captor's eyes. Or tried to; it was impossible to see where the eyes were under the shadow of that purple hood. Tia huffed impatiently; she was not used to having to repeat herself.

'I said eat.'

Not one to question her good fortune, Emilia's hands were onto the bun, dirt-grimed fingers gripping the white soft substance so hard she almost tore it in half and immediately brought it to her mouth. Just as she was about to take one bite- recognition set in, followed by doubt, then suspicion.

She held the bun away from her face, examining.

Before she could voice her thoughts, Tia spoke once more:

'It's not poisoned.'

For one moment whatever was left of her rationality debated whether or not she could trust the Fallen's words. Then her instincts won out and she shoved her face into the bun; tongue battling the food fiercely, aided by a few straggling teeth as she attempted to force the whole bun down her throat in one serving- spurred by the irrational fear that at the last second some dark force would descend upon her and snatch the food away.

Tia watched her prisoner eat with indifference. Unlike Emilia, whose eardrums had both bled and were now less than optimal due to the caked blood in them, her own ears were very much functional. As such, she could hear the rattling of her various assorted tools on a trolley as Plunos no doubt pushed it down the hallway outside their room. That settled, Igor would bring the bed; while it was easily five times as heavy as her she had no doubt the brute would manage that just fine.

Before long, there was nothing left before her but a somewhat-satisfied yet uneasy Sefiran before her, fidgeting nervously in its seat. No doubt it was wondering what businesses it had being brought before her at all. Tia smiled, despite herself.

Emilia did not like the way the female was smiling at her. It was a smile she identified as 'I have some surprises for you and you will love it'. For one, Emilia did not like surprises; never did, never would. Secondly, she was quite sure the Fallen before her would not do her a favor even if her life depended on it.

'W-vat a-ah ye smiling about-t ?', she asked, instantly regretting it. Her voice sounded terrible; a lack of speaking to anyone outside of grunts, screams, moans and whimpers for two debilitating months coupled with the screwed up state of her teeth resulted in raspy, stuttered speech. But if her captor noticed, she decided not to comment on it.

'Oh', her captor's smile widened, causing Emilia's gut to flop, 'you'll find out soon enough.'

She was about to question further, but stopped as the door opened. Her eyes widened with dread as in walked Igor, hefting a huge bed with manacles and chains hanging off the sides; clearly, someone was meant to be restrained on said bed.

It didn't take a genius to figure out who.

Blissfully ignorant of Emilia's growing trepidation, he turned to Tia, grinned a buck-toothed grin, and asked happily;

'So when do I get to strap her in?'

(break)

 _Twenty minutes later…_

'V-vat ah you doing?', she asked finally, unable to bear the silence any longer. Usually, Emilia was great at playing the waiting game; silence kept her company in her lonely little cell just as much as her friend the darkness. However, this silence was not at all like the one she was used to; despite being blindfolded she could very well sense the presence of the others in the room- helped somewhat by the fact that Igor's breathing was about as subtle as a war herald bashing gongs, and by the Gods it was oppressive.

'Thank you for your service.'

Igor shuffled uneasily in place. His eyes darted from four-o-three, back to the hooded Dark Templar in front of him, then back to four-o-three. Tia was just about done with the brute's thick-headedness.

'Leave.'

She did not even bother with saying please.

The door closed with an even louder bang this time , causing Emilia to flinch in her restrained position.

…

She soon felt a presence right beside her.

Despite herself, Emilia quivered.

A hand found its way onto her left cheek. It stayed there, gentle, unmoving, then trailed up over her nose; over her blindfold, to her matted, dirty hair with the delicate touch of what she might even call a lover's caress.

It trailed down her jawline to her throat. Emilia gulped audibly. This… soft touch, it was more unnerving than all the times she had been touched in the past weeks; Igor was rough, brusque, and thus her skin never as much _tingled_ as it did now. The hand lingered at her neck, as if wondering what it was doing…

And then, in a flash it was joined by the Fallen's other hand, both squeezing together, squashing her throat. Emilia's gag died before it could come out; the pressure in her lungs had suddenly multiplied tenfold as the Fallen began strangling her.

'U-ugh hg-h..'

Tia tightened her grip. Its face was turning an intriguing shade of red. _Strange,_ she thought, _I didn't know they broke so easily…_

'Nuhg.. No-' Emilia flopped against her restraints to no avail. But of course; the leather was as unyielding as the rocks of Ashbourne, and they bound her to the bed hand and foot.

'Shhh….', Tia husked besides the struggling girl's ears. Its struggle had begun to cease almost as soon as it started, and for good reasons; the pressure she was applying on its slim throat would have killed it in under twenty seconds.

At the eighteenth second, just as Emilia's face went purple and she took in one last, vain gasp, the pressure was released. The bed stopped shaking.

For one moment, it did not breath and Tia was touched by the slightest hint of worry that it had died.

And then, a huge lung bursting inhalation.

 _Ah… so it lives, after all…_

Emilia's vision was white. Her lungs felt like she had a gallon of water in it; burning. The stale, sickly air inside the prison had never felt so sweet to inhale- but it did now. Amazing how much one appreciated life only when brought to the brink of death.

The Fallen's hands were back on her cheeks, caressing her softly, gently… almost absentmindedly.

But without her vision- due to her blindfold- Emilia had no way of knowing what her captor's facial expressions were, and that scared her. She trembled with fear and anticipation underneath the female's touch. There was no telling if she would have the life squeezed out of her again. Not one to fear death under most circumstances, especially not after Igor had roughed her up these past duration, Emilia suddenly found her mind strangely vulnerable. _Like an open book._

'Ah.'

'Worry not. I shall not do that to you anymore.'

Emilia knew better than to take the Fallen's word at face value.

'And please. Stop thinking of me as 'The Fallen'. I have a name', the not-Fallen whispered. Emilia could swear she felt the moistness of saliva against her earlobes. It was making her insides churn in all sorts of way. _Why is she so close to me…_ And then it struck her. _How does she know what I am thinking ?!_

'I am Tia.'

'Yes. I can read your thoughts', 'Tia' supplied the answer. It was disturbing.

'No it's not', Tia chided as she brushed her lips against the quivering Emilia's ear lobe again. And again. On the third pass she flicked her tongue out onto one bruised cheek. She was delighted to see the thing flinch from her touch and attempt to jerk away. In vain, of course.

 _Someone please help me…_

'No one's here to help you… Emilia.'

Hearing the word was like a mental slap to the face. It had been so long since someone had called her that. It was… her name. And yet it sounded so alien. Four-o-three's mind froze with wonderment as the name bounced in her head. _Emilia…?_

Memories came back. Of her childhood. Growing up on the outskirts of Citadel beyond the city's great walls. Being six years old. Meeting her baby brother Michael for the first time. Playing in the fields, chasing some stupid lambs that somehow always outran both of them. Falling off a tree and shrieking; Michael running off to get help. Her leg fully healed by the time her worried mother came running to her aid. Family picnics by some lake. That _one_ time they visited the Palace and Judicator Arianna smiled at her.

Her first fight with an older girl; she lost.

Her father leaving for the war. Her mother leaving for the war soon after…

Being enrolled at the Institute. Her first time holding a broadsword; that clumsy, stupid weapon that was too big for her and oh-so-impractical. Her affinity for healing magic. Being taken on as an apprentice healer. Transfer to… somewhere. Then somewhere again. And then somewhere. Healers were needed everywhere; she never held a post for long on any front the Sefiran held against the Fallen scourge. Until Irongate.

 _Irongate…_

'That's where we are now, if your faculties are decent enough to recall, yes', spoke an amused-sounding Tia. Emilia blanched. Tia had said she could read her mind, so did that mean that the entire time her memories was runni-

'Yes.'

'I saw everything.'

 _Oh no…_

'Aww…', Emilia could _hear_ the pout on Tia's face, 'there's nothing to hide, sweetie.' She said this with her left hand sliding over Emilia's chest, down to her solar plexus, pushing her down.

It hurt; her wings were terribly crushed up against her back- even unfurled and missing a lot of their feathers it was not like they were nothing. Another insistent press drove the bones of her wings into her back. Her spine ached.

Emilia bit back a groan. Her lips were soon going out of commission; they had been used to bite back so many screams and groans that most of the flesh was feeling pulpy- as good as gone- and chewing on bone was not in her agenda. _Pretty sure there isn't bone in my lips…_

'Oh', Tia apologized with the sincerity of a Sorry.'

The hand lifted from her solar plexus. She was about to sigh a sigh of relief when her ribs caved in and she huffed one painful gasp, then tried to double over with pain.

'Hug-h!'

Actually, her ribs didn't cave in, but it had sure felt like it. Tia had delivered a solid punch right between her rib cages and Emilia's panic began to mount frighteningly fast as she realized that she could not breathe. Even though her throat, nose and mouth were working just fine, she could not breathe! _No! This is not how it ends!_

Desperate, her feet thrashed against the unyielding constraints. Her mouth opened and closed uselessly. It felt like a ton of rocks were pressed down onto her bosom; making all attempts at drawing air simply impossible. She felt like a fish stuck on dry land, gills flapping desperately to no avail. A more apt parallel would be hard to find. Emilia was in her death throes and she knew it.

'Huh-g.. h-huh-g huu huh hu….'

Meanwhile Tia continued to watch, impassive, her face not betraying the slightest hint of interest as she could physically _see_ the soul beginning to detach itself from the wretched Sefiran before her.

 _Not yet._

With a sigh she punched its solar plexus again, but to fix it this time. A pained scream reverberated in the room; screeching with the intensity of a thousand nails raking over a chalkboard. The restraints shook. If they were off, Tia was quite sure the Sefiro's back would arch in impossible ways as it received mind-numbing pain. Debilitating pain. Hellishly torturous pain. It would be quite the show; she was sure the Sefiran would began writhing all over the floor like a possessed rag doll. Honestly, it hurt her a little, too; probing its mind gave her a weak link into its emotions and right now all it felt could be summed up in one four-letter word.

…

Down the hallway, Plunos squeezed his eyes shut. His hands were already over his ears; however the higher pitched shrieks that females make when they were tortured easily pierced his ear drums- higher decibels and all, not that he had the mind to care about the specifics. He knew his attempts were in vain but, what else was he to do; make small talk with Igor? Perhaps sound travelled by sight, and darkness would help drown out the screams that were not going to stop for a long, long time.

(break)

Emilia…

 _Cold._

 _I feel so cold._

 _I don't really know… why? I feel that way; the room was supposed to be hot and stifling- and indeed it was- with the fact that it lacked any kind of proper ventilation._

 _A fine sheen of sweat covered my forehead. Dry, dead hair clung –plastered- to my neck. My throat was parched and my voice guttural and hoarse. Cracked lips were dabbed at by my tongue but… it helped little; my whole mouth felt like a bucket of sand, pray the Lord._

 _Despite it all, I was cold. Trembling, my half-lidded, swollen eyes trailed her warily._

 _Abject terror claimed me as she raised a hand, beautiful, smooth digits caressing the air near my cheek. I had learnt to fear her touch; punishment came with no warning every time she hit me. Chills ran up and down my spine and I could not control the trembling of my tattered wings. I was… afraid._

'I won't hit you', she said.

 _I had learnt to trust the opposite of her words. She knew as much. And, I suspected, took great pleasure in it. Lies and truths lost their meaning to me; how can one discern what is real and what is not when everything ended in pain? I was as transparent to her as she was to me. She enjoyed inflicting pain; relished every second of it. I just happened to be the hapless victim._

Poor me…

 _Igor's cruelty paled in comparison to Tia's ministrations._

 _She was quite possibly the most sadistic person I have ever met._

 _Her hand closed around my throat gently and I could hold it back no more. My eyes were puffy, sore; spent. But tears still came streaming out, the very act of crying itself sending stabs through the nerves in my eyes. I sobbed softly, body quivering as Tia's hand continued to linger on my throat._

 _I knew i… I-I knew I should be brave._

…

 _I knew that as a Sefiro I had to have hope. Hope. It was something we could always have even in the darkest of times. Hope; at the end of the day, it would be my saving grace- it would ensure my survival. I just had to believe._

 _I wanted to. I really did._

 _But I was just so… so scared. It was hard to think straight._

'Huh-g, huh…hu…huh-g-', I hiccupped. _My vision was blurry. Tia's hand did not move. I was not fooled. She had played with me so much I knew the second I believed her gentleness was the second she would squeeze the life out of me._

'Huh…h-'

 _I was just so cold._

 _I stared at her. But defiance was not in my stare. She had made her scream for hours until I could scream no more._

 _Tia got bored quickly._

 _She took off the restraints and left. Tia needed not worry about me trying to escape; she_ knew _that I_ knew _I was too scared of her to try anything like that. It took me a long time; something in the order of half an hour, if not an eternity, but I finally managed to pull my broken body into a fetal position and covered my head_ _with my hands as I made quiet, frightened animal noises under the sterile white light of the torture chamber. My inert wings splayed out behind me; slack._

 _I begged Divinity to end me for my sake; I had not the strength to reach over to the tray of bloodied tools nearby to take one and plunge it into my own heart._

 _I was scared that if I got hold of a sharp object Tia would somehow know and barge in at the last second to take my hope away. Then I would have to remain in this chamber forever._ No _…the tray was within arm's reach, there was still hope._

 _The door creaked and my eyes widened in panic. Was she back again so soon? Why was she back again?_ Oh no, please, no more gentle caresses, no more loving touches, no more kind words. _They were lies, lies, and lies._

 _No more._

 _I prayed to Divinity._

Please. No more. Just end me.

…

Let me go…

(break)

 **Ranked games have tilted me to the point I am thinking of suicide. Don't expect a new chapter soon. If I write anything now it will just be more Emilia P.O.V and torture/pain/death/suicide/rape and all the negative things I can pour my emotions into. I probably need to go eat sugar; that might perk up my mood. Until next time. Folks.**


	10. Valentine's Special

**For this Valentine's special, I took some of the most important people in my life like Astraeuzz, Incinerize... and involved them into this little spin-off of On Tattered Wings in an Alternate Universe, modern setting. Radio, Tod, Six, Reap, Lovely. Each of you, and me, represent one of the characters. Yeah. I wish you a lovely Valentine's. Have an amazing day, don't forget to smile, and until next time, have a good one folks!**

(break)

'Moshi moshi!', she chirped in Japanese, 'Helipotatoe kara no Emi Takashima desu!'

'Harow sweetie', I sighed as I took the phone away and stared at the avatar for Emilia's contact saved in my Samsung; it was a potato- with a helicopter rotor on its head; absolutely ingenious- 'could you pass the phone to Kro for a second?'

My eyes glanced at my still-open laptop from last night of grinding League while I waited. Ninety seven thousand mastery points and still no fucking Mastery Level 7 Nocturne. Gee gee Rito. Ranked was sucking the life out of me and there was nothing I could do about it. I sighed. At least I finally broke Gold 2. Just a few more weeks and I might finally reach Emi and Kro, those two lovely idiots who held hands to Gold 1 in _a single day ffs._

Behind me Asri grumbled in her sleep and patted the empty space next to her on the bed where I should have been. Three quarter of the duvet was wrapped around her like an Elise Cocoon and she licked her lips.

Cute.

I resisted the urge to reach out and _boop!_ her on the nose. 'C-cuddle...', she moaned through a sleepy haze, 'Ana...'

On the other end, I could hear Emi's barely suppressed giggles. Oh no, she was so _not_ going to pretend I was a customer again. Jesus Christ. The number of times I had to order potatoes just to get a conversation started was beginning to rise into the triple digits. Those two adorable idiots must have made a small fortune off of me alone. _By the will of the Lady..._

'Moshi?', she was being a six year old and she enjoyed it. Welp...

'Fine', I groaned, 'I will have two large number nines, try to bring them over before eight, thanks, and could you pass the phone to Kro please, _Emi-chan?_ _'_

 _'_ Ohaiyo!', I heard her feet pad away. Asri was up now and stared at me with bleary eyes, almost seeming to ask who I was and what I was doing in her house. Then she probably remembered that we lived together, and smiled. _Shit._ There was that sultry grin again. That twinkle in her eyes every time she woke up when it was a weekend and she knew I didn't have to rush off to work. That mischievous glint, that slight upturn of the lips. _Oh boy…_

'No', I mouthed silently, but it was no use. With the duvet still wrapped around her waist and flared hips, Asri began pawing her way towards me slowly with a huge shit-eating grin on her face. Her night skirt was off-centered giving me a nice view down her modest cleavage. Like I said, her breasts weren't big, but even modest breasts could look pretty impressive if they were hanging in your face.

Krotia answered the phone.

'Moshi moshi! Helipotatoe kara no Krotia Takash-'

'Oi! Staph pleeze', I cut her off. In the background I could hear Emilia's giggles go on. _Jesus..._

'Hehe... Mhm. What's up Ana?', Krotia put on her serious voice and I was glad. Now at least half of us were finally acting our age here, '... is Asri still sleeping?'

'Ah', I glared at my partner, who was now busying herself with figuring out how to rid me of my clothes without having to leave the comfort of the bed, 'she's... sleeping, I guess.'

I must have been a terrible liar.

'ASRI!', Kro suddenly yelled into the phone, eliciting a loud "Fuck!" out of me as I jerked and almost dropped it onto Asri's head in my lap. 'BE GENTLER WITH HER THIS TIME OKAY?'

Looking up at me with those stupidly cute puppy dog eyes of hers she mouthed _okay_ , then resumed trying to get into my pants. I raised the Samsung to my other ear, flustered.

'I said she's asleep', I muttered, trying to muster up some annoyance to inject into my voice but failing miserably, as I rubbed my right ear. Krotia's yell had hurt it. 'alright then', Kro gave me a breezy laugh,'anyways, why did ya call?'

'Ah', I hesitated as I struggled to recall why I had called my bestie in the first place; I had Asri to blame for it- her fingers were going places again. God damn, 'we are going to meet with Tia and Kayle later today... and we haven't really decided on a place yet. I thought maybe you two could pitch in and help with some suggestions.'

'Mhm', Kro seemed to mule it over. I heard a slight whisper in the background again and could see in my mind Krotia moving away to listen to Emi. They were discussing something. I put one gentle hand on the thick head of hair beneath me and gave it a slight push, but Asri was relentless.

'Alright, we got an idea okay. Gonna tell you later', Kro came back. I could hear Emi's breathing right beside her; she must be all wrapped around her partner like a koala or something right then. The image made me smile. It was so cute to just think of them like that.

Then I furrowed my eyebrows.

'Later? Why not n-AHHHHHHHHhhhhh', I yelped as a certain _someone_ 's lips dove right into the guarded spot between my now-parted thighs and began assaulting me in the most vicious way imaginable. Molten lava spread from my loins. That familiar, melty feeling returned.

The Samsung dropped from my hands onto the edge of the dresser with a soul-rending _crack!_ and plopped onto the floor unceremoniously where it lay unmoving like a dead person. But then again, of course it would be unmoving, since it was an inanimate object and, oh, the pleasure, the… oh... it was too good...

Indiscernible sounds- might be Emi's excited yipping- from the inert phone reminded me that it was probably still working (thank the Lady) and I tried to reach for it, but Asri pounced on me now and stole the scream from my mouth with a passionate kiss, and then we locked lips, and, and…. And (oh shit I couldn't think) I fucking forgot everything except the taste of her sweet, plump lips, the way she was straddling me, pinning me down. Her touch, on my skin. She pulled the duvet to make a little tent and covered us both. Jesus. It was barely seven in the morning and we were already-

-what the actual fuck. Duck. I'm sorry. Excuse my French right there alright folks? I paid Asri one buck every time I swore. It was something she sternly imposed on me when my swearing was getting too tiresome for her ears. Naturally, I submit. With the money she had gained Asri had been able to afford several new skirts (the cheaper stuff from Forever 21), not to mention a load of lingerie. I liked to see her in lingerie, and she did, I. Sometimes it felt like everyone I knew were just living off my monies. Not that I really minded. Just… Amen.

I quivered under her touch. She was just… ahem, tickling me down _there_ , not anything earth shattering no nah n-hum nope. But maybe I was just like that. I was sensitive _everywhere_ anyways. I trembled. She giggled softly, her breath tickling me in all the right spots. Welp. Wet start to the day, and it wasn't raining outside, oh no. (badum tssss what a pun I am a god)

She nibbled on my neck and licked me and I tried to push her away because for Jesus's sake a phone was on the floor and what if it broke and what if Emi rode up to our house and had to wait outside while the house shook and moans flew out of windows every which way and the potatoes got cold and what if the neighbors could hear me again and what if-

'Ana.'

Asri stared at me through her eyelashes.

So fucking coy.

So damn cute.

Her eyes were not glazed over with lust and I was genuinely surprised, but then again, maybe I just forgot all the times she stopped in the middle of our love-making to comfort crying me. Crying me who for one moment became lost to the past and thought the hands that touched her belonged to another and not her soul mate. It was these moments of crystal clear thoughts that made me love Asri. She didn't just take me for her own pleasure like others did. She stopped. She listened. She actually _cared_. In my sober moments I teased her with Prudential's tag line; 'Always listening. Always understanding.' She usually punched me in the guts softly so I could pretend to double over and curl into a ball so she could heft me and carry me off to bed and do _stuff_. We did a lot of _stuff._ Oh here I am ranting again… (sorry reader .)

'Ana you're drifting again. Come back.'

The angel before me held my face with both hands and stared into my eyes. Brown irises met dark brown ones. I leaned forward, kissed the tip of her nose and she rose, rose on her knees. She hugged me in her position and we embraced in this weird hug-thing where because I was still sitting my face nestled between her breasts and there she was, oh the gentle soul, murmuring sweet nothings into my uncombed hair (ugh) and cradling my face against her bosom. After a while, she sat back down and we kissed.

I followed her back onto our bed, everything else forgotten.

The murmurs on my Samsung stopped and I guess Krotia had cut the call.

Good.

I shivered, and it wasn't because I was cold.

Oh well.

…

I was cursing her and beating her back weakly the entire time she made love to me that morning and my damn hips were sore again as I took the potatoes off Emi. The damnable little miss flashed me a cheeky grin as she rode off on Krotia's bicycle and I so wanted to chase after her and tackle her off it Super-Bowl style and have her partner Krotia come one vee one me like she was a pro, but then soft hands encircled my waist and pulled me back into the house as Emi-chan laughed and rode off and someone planted a solid, wet kiss onto my forehead and I crumpled into Asri's arms like a sack of potatoes. Fuck.

I mewled pitifully as I was fed kisses and our breakfast sat on the wooden table, untouched. The unique ringtone I set for Kayle's number announced itself cheerfully; the song Judicator, by Krale, on Youtube. No doubt the older woman would be introducing her new girlfriend Tia to us all today and I wanted to hear all about it before she came (I wanted to get first dibs on everything even something as insignificant as this, I'm a control freak amirite) but my fucking Samsung was intentionally placed _way_ out of reach by some smartass whose first name I took the day I vowed to be her wife forever and ever.

I loved her to bits. (yes, everywhere)

I really did.

Yeah…

'Happy Valentine's Day', Asri whispered and we locked lips, just all smiles.

 _Well, fuck._

 _…_

 _I won't be able to walk for a week now._

 _..._

We came up for air after what felt like hours, but was probably only minutes.

I buried my face in the crook of her neck as both of our phones rang. Krale was playing again, so Kayle was calling. Asri's Nokia (I know right so old-fashioned) beeped it's classic ringtone, so anyone could be calling, but I was willing to bet a potato that it was Kro and/or Emi again, wanting to check if my hips were broken and whether they needed to call the ambulance. Those lovely folks... I sighed and Asri continued holding me, seemingly content to let the phones ring all they wanted.

'I love you', I muttered into her flesh. I felt like crying. Oh no, why did I feel like crying. I was such a mess. I didn't deserve this. Her. Asri. She was too good. Too kind. Too… perfect for me. I tried not to sob and clung to her tighter. _Don't let me go_ , I prayed.

She smiled at me.

I didn't have to look to know. Asri chuckled softly whenever she smiled. It was funny. It was cute. And endearing. _Oh God how I love her…_

'I love you, too.'

And I couldn't hold back the tears anymore, and I bawled. Like a six year old.

I bawled and cried and sobbed and, and… and she held me until I was quiet. And then she kissed the top of my head and said that she loved me again. And again. And again. She said it like she was trying to convince me, and I believed her.

Finally, we ate the potatoes.

-The End-

 **D**********e, if you are reading this, I just want to ask you one question. Why? Why were you so cold? Why did you. Maybe it's me. Maybe it was all me. I'm sorry. I'm sorry it ended that way. And M************s, I still ask for your forgiveness, even now. Forgive me. It was only a normal game. And I know I tilted you. Short of killing myself, is there no other way I can atone? Pray, do tell.**


	11. Chapter 10: Seduce

**s.v's note to readers:** **Heartfelt thanks to (not in any order) Six, Incinerize, Tod and Radioactive for keeping me afloat these days. If not for ya 'all I would have gone under a long time ago and never come back. And Lovely, too. Your occasional antics (might not be the best expression, but they are fun and light-hearted) could always make me smile. You have kept me alive for as long as… ever? I don't know. But I have you folks to thank for everything. Thank you. Long live the Queen of Amurrica!**

Chapter 10: Seduce

 _In the week leading up to the events of Chapter 7…_

'Yes, that's correct. You can kick the shins too; those will hurt like hell and your opponent would be temporarily disabled, or at the very least thrown off.'

'But… won't that also break my toes?', asked a meek Kumi, on shifting heels.

'No, sweetie. You don't have to kick with your toes; either the ball of your foot or even – if you can manage it- your heel will do,' Asri smiled encouragingly at her pupil. She then stepped back to give her raven-haired apprentice plenty of space to prep her own stance before the girl executed a textbook low kick to her padded quadriceps- textbook as in slow, jerky, and much telegraphed- before following it up with another kick to her padded left shin. The girl did not retract her foot as she was supposed to and immediately Asri knew something had gone wrong, that, or the girl just sucked. There was a very subtle _kuck!_ , an immediate yelp, then the raven-haired little angel before her fell over hugging her leg as she stared up at Asri with wide, glistening dark eyes.

Eyes brimming with welled up tears.

'My toe! I stubbed my toe! It hurts! AUGHHHHHHHHHHH!' Kumi cried as she clutched her foot. _Oh my Lady…_

Asri sighed and started to turn away. _This is so not happening_. She really did not want to look.

'Ugh…umm,' she hesitated, then bent down and slid one of the girl's arms around her neck, ' here, let's get you somewhere better to sit.'

Sitting on the hard clay would be a waste for as cute a butt as yours. Asri thought it but did not say it out loud. Pray the Lady; Kumi was even younger than her Ana…

She sat the pale-skinned girl down on one of the railings framing the training yard. Practice went on as usual; though scattered and few. It was, after all, rather late in the day and most of the people had gone off. In their little corner of the courtyard, no one paid them any heed.

As Kumi watched, Asri continued demonstrating the rest of the basic techniques for their lesson that day; mostly just more and more theory on why the low cut kick was as good as it was; execution, when to use it, why to use it, what to use it against, what to use it with- definitely not one's toes for sure- and some notes and reminders on when and how to utilize one's elbows in close combat. The bulk of the lesson; clinches- had not been touched upon.

But let's be realistic; clinches would be impossible to demonstrate when only one of the participants could properly stand for a few moments before having to sit down.

At the end of it all, Asri found herself pumped up, the blood running nice and hot in her veins, a fine sheen of sweat on her forehead. Physical exercise… ah… how could she ever live without it, she would never know.

Her pupils were dilated when she trained them on Kumi again.

'You know… earlier when we were doing hooks.'

'Y-yes, Mentor?', the girl's voice was just too cute.

'It's a common mistake and I'm not berating you. But for your crosses as well as hooks, you tend to let your guard hand drop when you punch.'

'That's a… well… it _can_ be a costly mistake in an actual fight; you don't ever want to open yourself up in anyways; don't create windows for your opponents' counterattacks.'

'Aw. Uhm. Okay,' Kumi muttered. _By the will of the Lady… she is just so adorable_ , Asri thought.

'Lean back,' she commanded, eyes kept averted now so Kumi would not be able to read her intentions. Her ward obeyed her in a heartbeat. Asri took great care in parting the girl's thighs. Realizing what was going on at the last second the flustered eleven-year-old clamped her legs tightly and shot her a bewildered, alarmed look. It was cute; the girl seemed to be asking Asri what was going on, almost as if she and Asri was on the same side and the hands grasping insistently at her young, untainted thighs belonged to a third person.

The little thing's innocence was such a huge turn on. _Oh well,_ Asri lamented in her head, _another pair gone…_

'I need to get a better look at your leg, I mean, toe…', it was the lamest excuse she had ever heard, but Kumi was as naïve as a potato, and Asri knew from the blush on her face that no one, not even her own parents, had ever held her in such a position before. Sweet young thing; it was utterly confused by the tingles of nerves no doubt running along its thighs to pool in the wet heat below its waist. And yet, it would be too young to decipher those feelings and would only know to look to the nearest adult for an answer. For guidance, for help dealing with the… ah… wetness.

Kumi's wide eyes were extremely expressive; one of the things that made her so alluring to Asri. Those eyes were now riveted onto hers. _Trust me_ , Asri planted the thought into the girl's head.

Her hand trailed agonizingly slowly from the outer thigh to the knee. She pushed said knee back, back…back until it was against Kumi's flat chest. In such a position the training tunic had easily ridden up to reveal…

Asri gulped, her eyes tearing them back to the out-stretched foot. Her hand trailed down, ghosting touches as she went against soft, smooth, young sensitive skin. Kumi quivered.

Asri's eyes raked the vulnerable form before her. _So defenseless._ She could just.

 _No._

'It will be fine.'

 _Dammit I'm soaked._

But to be honest, she did not even check the toe. She withdrew her hands and stood up swiftly, acting cold. It was necessary.

'That should be all for today then, goodbye Kumi.'

It was all part of the plan. Pull them close; push them out- make them want to come back for more~

The girl blinked. Once. Twice. Then she blushed as her eyes darted from her position to Asri, back to her position; the little thing had unwittingly spread its legs; a subconscious impulse- and now probably felt a prickly heat in its loins. Its face betrayed its emotions; Kumi was being sexually awakened.

It was worrying to the girl; Kumi had never gotten wet before- Asri suspected as much, although it did not faze her in the least bit. First times were _always_ fun.

'T-thank you, Mentor,' she bowed and limped off quickly, a thousand and one convoluted thoughts on her mind.

Asri smiled when she was sure her pupil was gone. She never tired of this game. Show a youngling something as mundane as _one_ touch, _one_ accidental caress, _one_ feel, and the spark would take care of it and turn into a fire. Curious, eager and wanting, they would come back for more. Pleasure drove every one of these self-proclaimed righteous Sefiran; from the oldest hags to the tiniest fledglings.

But who was the she to judge?

Asri herself had spoiled her panties just teasing _her_ Kumi.

She only had to pull the right strings. Asri knew the next time, Kumi would not mind being touched as much. She would be reserved, but being an Instructor meant she earned the automatic trust of all her wards and the raven-haired girl would let her get away with one more touch, the poor thing burning to explore the strange emotions coursing through its veins. And the whole time, Kumi would believe that she could actually _trust_ her mentor.

Asri she stared at her nails, mostly because out of boredom with no particular thought in mind, and then began taking off her protective gear. She mused with a quiet smile about just how Kumi's lips would taste like. The pale girl came from Northpass, which was a long, long way even if it was part of the growing Empire; and it wasn't- not yet. Situated at the foot of the colossal Mount Idra, isolated from the rest of 'civilization' by a thousand miles of tundra wastelands, the sun showed its face only one month a year and thus its people all had pale complexions and dark hair which made them stand out like a dandelion in a bed of roses. Asri looked forward with great relish to the day she could add the girl to her list of conquests. It was well rising into the double digits.

But then again, she pondered as she spotted a familiar figure… it was all only practice.

The object of her ultimate conquest was not the plucky little miss who had just ran off. Oh no, the object of her ultimate conquest was running to her right now.

'Asri,' her Ana cried out. There were tears on her cheek. _Wait, what?!_ _Please don't tell me she also just stubbed her toe_ …

'Asri!', her Ana melted into her open embrace, burying its head in the nook of her neck, 'Asri, I need you?'

 _Oh._ Asri blinked. Once. Twice. She patted her Ana's hair softly, lovingly.

patpat*

 _Wow…_

'Is something wrong sweetie?'

'Asri…', her Ana whimpered, '…help me.'

She smiled simply because she could not… resist it.

 _Oh boys… some might say I have my lucky stars to thank._

Sefiro believed in Divinity. Fallen put their faith in their Empress; Dark Lady Ayla the Sixth. Asri herself didn't believe in either, because to her preparation meets opportunity equaled luck and there was no such thing as an invisible hand that would be fate guiding their lives with invisible strings. The very notion of it reeked of ridiculousness.

But this… this was just _too_ easy.

(break)

 _Later…_

'Uhm.'

'Uhm.'

'Yes?', Asri could stand it no longer.

Not when her Ana was being _this_ skittish about what was bothering her. Blushing while turning away, meaning yes and saying no. _What the actual fuck?_

'Speak you mind,' she frowned, despite herself, then thought to add in as an afterthought, 'please.'

Her Ana looked left, right. Down. Up. Sixty degrees north then in the three o-clock direction. Anywhere but at _her_.

It was adorable. And frustrating. But mostly adorable. It was also weird.

Or not weird. Well, maybe a little. Asri was having trouble making up her mind; she had her warm, soft Ana to blame for it. To think of all the things she could do to abuse the trust she had… the very thoughts made her gush.

'You run up to me, crying, asking for my help. You sob into my tunic for ten minutes and now, when I ask you if you are okay, you say you are fine?', she pressed, 'really, Ana? You looked heartbroken a few minutes ago.'

'So please. Tell me. What's going on?'

Asri despised the sound of silence.

'Uhm…'

'Enough with the uhm!', she snapped. Asri regretted it instantly. Her Ana was on the verge of tears again. _By the Lady's will, do not cry…_

'Is it Kayle again?', Asri laid a gentle hand on Morgana's thigh. The girl had grown used to it and did not push her away. In fact, her Ana leaned into her, and what started out as a subtle attempt at groping turned into another embrace. They hugged while Asri pawed at her ward with eager hands. Her machinations would have been clear to everyone except the very subject of her, well, _machinations._ Thankfully, the courtyard was mostly empty by now and with darkness setting in pretty much everyone had left. The girl was not supposed to be this warm, Asri realized, as the heat of the thigh she was caressing dawned on her. _Ooh… someone' s getting excited…_

But Morgana made no move to inch away from the Fallen pervert beside her. _Ahh… is this what a wolf feels like when being in sheep's clothing?_ , the Master bladeswoman mused.

Asri liked to think of herself as a pervert; it was actually the least degrading of the long list of deprivatives that could all be applied to her, but pervert had a nice ring to it, in her opinion. The fact that the warm girl didn't resist her less-than-overt attempts at molesting her didn't escape her notice either.

It must have felt nice.

'Mhm… soooo', she drawled, 'it was Kayle again, wasn't it?'

'y-Yeah', her Ana looked up, 'how…how did you know?'

Asri mock-sighed as she ran her hand up one thigh while inching closer subtly. They were practically in each other's lap. Asri doubted, however, that her Ana was much used to the concept of _cuddling_. At least, not yet. She would cop as many feels as she could and she was not even going to be ashamed. _You only live once, after all._

'It's always Kayle, isn't it? Tell me, dear, what is it this time?', Asri cooed. Morgana rocked back and forth within her arms like a baby being lulled off to sleep. The sight wouldn't have been out of place in a kindergarten where a little girl would curl up in her caretaker's arms.

As it was, Morgana was about to reveal that she was not too much different from the little tots.

'It will be just like the other day again? She won't come home and play with you?', Asri came out sounding more brusque than she intended, but it couldn't be helped; her opinions of Kayle had only gone south ever since the young woman became Justicar-apprentice.

'But it's my birthday!', her Ana bawled, sounding like her whole world had been devastated and all hope in life had gone away- truly a tragedy, 'and she said she was too busy to come!'

'AUGHHHHHH!', the cry was painful to hear; it was all Asri could do not to cringe, 'why did this have to happen to me?!'

Asri sniffed as a sopping bundle of warm female flesh melted into the front of her clothes. Now even her top was wet. _Great. Now it's even more awkward._

'Uhm', now it was her turn to hesitate. Her Ana continued sobbing against her bosom. If the girl realized she was sniffling rather messily just one layer of fabric away from Asri's breasts, she gave no hint of it. This was just getting more and more awkward by the second. It was a pity, really; Asri wouldn't have minded being sobbed into if they were sitting somewhere with higher elevation so she could enjoy the sunset- sunsets in Citadel were marvelous; set up as it was by the giant orb of fire descending unto the Dark Mountains in the distance to create that _majestic_ feeling.

'AUGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!'

The cry had the same intensity as a thousand nails scratching a chalkboard. At a higher decibel, it would be a banshee's shriek. But even as it was, it was already debilitating to hear. Somewhere far, far away, harp strings snapped and baby seals lay spasming on the ice. Vases broke and little girls clutched their bleeding ears as they ran in the streets upturning upturned flower pots.

 _By the will of the Lady, make it stop._

'Ahh… you, uh… have…um… me!', Asri smiled maternally at her Ana. It had the desired effect; she eased the torrents of tears somewhat.

It didn't stop feeling awkward, however.

'Tell you what', Asri propped Morgana up and looked her in the eyes; those orbs staring right back at her were such deep, mesmerizing pools she felt like she could fall into them and never come back, 'why don't you come over to my house to celebrate your birthday?'

Morgana looked at her silently for a moment and Asri's gut flopped.

'You know', she fired off rapidly, 'since it's getting late and all and… and I don't think…', she paused for one second, then praised herself for her own stroke of genius, '…Kayle would be home to cook you anything at all right, right Ana?'

Kayle was a sore spot for Morgana and invoking her sister's name could almost always procure the desired results. A fresh torrent of tears seemed to be on the way until Asri patted her little angel's hair. *patpat* .That helped.

'Oh… um', Morgana hesitated, detaching herself from her mentor. There was just the slightest tinge of anticipation in her voice, 'really? I can come?'

'Of course, dear', Asri gave her Ana the biggest, most gracious smile she could muster, 'you are always welcome in my humble adobe.'

'Awww', her Ana swooned and clung to her again. Asri's hands burnt with the desire to turn this embrace into something much, much more intimate right then, right there; the entire yard was empty now save for the two of them. The silence was oppressive; it begged to be filled with lusty moans.

 _And… oh_.

The darkness would make it so romantic; love under the moonlight and al-

 _No._

'Then let's get you home, Ana', she instead smiled as she took the girl's hands.

And off they went.

(break)

 _Later that night…_

'Cheers!'

We clinked their glasses together, the woman and the girl, as we toasted health, peace, and everything and anything under the sun.

I excused myself as I left her to nurse her drink alone and sashayed into the kitchen, then came back and brought my younger companion two little dishes of fried chicken and boiled peas.

I placed napkins and chopsticks down before her and she gave me a quizzical look.

'Are chopsticks okay?' I asked the girl in a husky voice. She nodded. 'So… what would you like?'

'Uhm… er,' Ana was blushing for no reasons and it was just _so_ cute. Her eyes darted between the two plates, her chopsticks in her hand hovering over them.

'It's boiled peas,' I said. 'It's delicious.'

She still seemed indecisive and so –not for the last time that night- I took the initiative for her by taking my own chopsticks, picking up a single pea, and bringing it to her lips.

Morgana stared at me with slightly-widened eyes, lips stubbornly not opening even as I gently pressed at them with the pea between my chopsticks. She narrowed her eyes at me and pursed her lips, blushing, as she turned away.

'Please, Mentor', she was positively pinkening now and it amused me. How could she be flustered and _at the same time_ look _so_ coquettish was beyond me and thrilled me in the most pleasurable ways, 'don't… feed me.'

As if to convince me that she could very well do it on her own, my lovely little Ana moved to pick up some peas with her own pair. To little success; I noted with the slightest hint of a smile. The rotund peas continued evading the fumble grasps of the young Sefiro, adding only to her barely-concealed distress. There really was no reason to be so… stressed out? Over dinner. And it was supposed to be a pleasurable affair.

 _Mhm..._

Ana seemed to always be getting a bit… uncomfortable around me. And for what reasons? True, I always tried to create sexual tension around her simply because it was _so_ fun. But she was a big girl, turning fourteen soon now, surely she had outgrown that? It was like I was her constant source of embarrassment or something. Of... perhaps familial shame? Like I was that book-worm older sister she had to bring along to her posh parties, if she even had those. Like I was... the polar opposite of her that she had to endure living with under the same roof.

Like I… like I was her older sister Kayle.

Thinking of Kayle brought dark thoughts to my mind.

Kayle.

If there was one word even viler than Sefiran to my lips, it would have to be the name of my Ana's elder sister; Kayle.

Kayle, who prioritized training above her own family. Kayle, who no longer bothered with cooking her sister meals because 'she was old enough to eat out alone'. Kayle who, on her sister's birthday night, was busy cheering her friends on at a pledging-in ceremony for a bunch of new Justicars. On her sister's birthday night!

 _What an atrocity._

Just thinking about my Ana's sister made my gut twist. Jealousy; black and stifling, consumed me. Who was she to get to sleep under the same roof as my Ana day in day out and not care about her? Who was Kayle to get to touch this… pristine skin, this… wonderful, _wonderful_ flesh just because she was her sister? Who was she to even dare lay claim to any part of little Ana at all?

Kayle didn't care about her sister. She couldn't. _She wouldn't_.She was too busy with her own life. She would never be there for little Ana.

But I could.

Jealousy pulled me down. Jealousy swallowed me up.

I could be there for her.

To talk to her. To listen to her. To hold her. _To take her..._

A surge of maternal protectiveness overwhelmed me and I found myself leaning forward into her, her eyes widening too late- I had already pulled my Ana into an embrace.

'It's okay, I muttered to the girl, but then again, I might have been muttering it to myself, 'it's all gonna be okay...'

'Wat?', she sounded confused, 'why...er... why are you hugging me Mentor?'

'Call me Asri', I had the presence of mind to mutter. I was distracted. Oh so distracted. Her hair it... it smelled so good I buried my head in it and inhaled and just... went to heaven. I was bad at this. This whole... love, thing. The first time I spiked her drink, I was so scared of touching her out of nowhere that I just stared at her for hours on end without doing anything. The second time I drugged her in that same day, my hands could not take her in her sleep; my heart would have none of it. Stupid, conniving, stupid Asri. Who was I to think I could have everything?

I was terrible at this. At her. Oh, if it had been some other sweet young thing like Kumi I am quite sure I would have had no qualms about giving her an early induction into womanhood alright, but with my little Ana...

It was getting awkward.

The hug, I meant.

A teacher did not hug her student for a minute while unconsciously grinding her body against the latter without saying anything. It was simply not done. Yeah, that. That was a big no no. Lines exist and Ana was not a dummy; if she haven't got a clue already, it wouldn't be long before she saw me for who I was and run off to bring the proverbial torch-branding, sickle-wielding, chant-shouting townsfolks back in numbers.

It looked like I was in a predicament.

 _Hmm..._

I had two options; push myself away now, and pretend I was just being over-sentimental and laugh it off awkwardly and we would spend the rest of the evening in stuffy silence and we would eat the peas and she would leave or stay but I would get myself drunk and go pity myself somewhere in the house, somewhere preferably dark.

That was one of the roads.

...

Or, I could try and kiss her.

I hesitated; I knew I was already out of time. I had to do somethig- anything. Anything but sit here and have this warm girl squirming in my laps, because she was _so_ catching on to what I was doing.

Reluctantly, I pushed her away and held her at arm's length. Ana's eyes locked onto mine, full of questions. I could fall into them and never come back. I knew that. _Oh..._

Before either of us knew what was going on, my lips acted of their own accord and descended upon her. She tried to jerk away- too late- I was much stronger than she was, and I held on tight.

I kissed her there again, and again, and again; with an urgency that surprised even me.

Through all her futile- and weakening- struggles, I could hear a very confused girl speak;

'Mentor... w-why are you kissing my forehead?'


	12. Chapter 11: Empress

Chapter 11: Empress

 _Defence of the fortress city of Irongate..._

'Protect the High Templar!', Aatrox grunted to no one in particular through gritted teeth as he cleaved a Fallen in two with a single sweep of his immense weapon.

Two more raised swords and charged at him, their eyes hidden beneath thick helmets; he speared one with the edge of his blade and screeched in annoyance as the other stabbed his stomach. He stepped back, pulling the Fallen along with the sword, before reaching down and squashing its head with a satisfying _crunch!_. Tossing the headless body aside, Aatrox gasped as he pulled the bloodied sword from himself and threw it casually into the rampaging mass of black-clad Fallen minions. A nearby Shadow Wyvern beat its wings and attempted to fly above the din; golden bolts blasted its underbelly and Aatrox reflexively ducked as he felt a blast of acrid fire burn the air above. More golden blasts filled the air; the Praetors were doing good work. Aatrox grimaced as he dispatched another with a horizontal slash.

Two purple bolts slammed into him, knocking him off balance, and the towering Guardian turned to glare at the ashen-faced Fallen Battle Mage who had dared attack him. With a bloodthirsty cry he soared into the air and slammed down onto the Mage, crushing her and sending bits of brain and blood flying everywhere. The nearby Fallen were torn between scrambling away from the bloodied Guardian and running him through with their swords. Aatrox did not take their moment of hesitation for granted and made quick work of the lot. Kicking still-warm corpses out of his way, he gave himself one second to look back at the Sefiro formations he had left behind.

All around him, the remnants of the Sefiran rear guard was collapsing. The massive contraptions the enemy had brought were teleportation portals; apparently Fallen High Command had foreseen the anti-teleportation charms that would come into place with Meridius's Divine Intervention and had managed to bring in the portals to warp in fresh troops from their base camps as they advanced further into the city. Well dug-in positions were being lost; the vital wizard towers that were essentially force-multipliers for the embattled Praetors were being overrun by the waves of Fallen, forcing them to abandon their position and sacrifice vital firepower or face encroachment and subsequent death. Too many important hold-outs were being lost; whatever chance of victory they had was gone along with the last rumblings of Mount Ashbourne, which had now come to rest on a quarter of the outer city.

Meridius had to abandon the city-walls; she was exposed to mage-fire in her elevated position and what few Justicars had attempted to maintain her had all perished when the first Shadow Wyverns were warped in. Now, the High Templar channeled her spell from within the Guardian's Chamber deep in the heart of the fortress city while the populace displayed general chaotic behavior mere streets away from the embittered fighting and what Sefiro could carry arms were funneled to Victory Square to hold off the unending waves while the young, the sick and the old streamed through hastily-erected portals to the safety of Citadel. The cries for 'Medic!' were too many among his troops; Aatrox took one moment to steel his resolve even as he easily parried a stab and cut the wielder's blade in half with his own, before sending the Queenblades to meet his maker.

A massive shockwave almost knocked Aatrox off his feet, he heard what sounded like hundreds of rocks flung into a very meaty body and- there- Syndra was panting as she levitated above a squadron of Praetors, their eyes burning gold with arcane magicks. A very dead Shadow Wyvern lay dead near their feet; two dozen golden spheres were flickering out of existence around its body. Aatrox smiled grimly to himself as he turned his gaze back onto the arched doorway on mounted wheels at the back of the marauding lot; dozens of purple shapes shimmered in the air. Swords began materializing followed by the dark armor of the Fallen blades-men, and the intense faces of a fresh lot of Battle Magi came into view as the warp-in almost completed.

Then darkness blocked the sky, and Aatrox saw the mages look up for one terrifying moment before the dead carcass of the Shadow Wyvern was encased in a golden leash from Syndra's outstretched hands and flung right at the mouth of the portal; crushing and killing all right away.

 _Sweet._

But there was no time to celebrate the slaying of the beast; two more Shadow Wyverns were flapping their wings as they tried to take to the skies. Aatrox readied his blade as he glanced around at the desperate Justicars still battling with the enemy Queenblades. They were not losing the battle, perhaps, but they were losing ground. And by the Judicator's will, they could not afford to lose any more ground already; the Fallen had gained territory one street at a time all the way from the fortress gates up to the steps of Victory square- losing the square and they would be fighting at the entrance to the Guardians' chambers, and that was not permissible by any means.

Past him ran two Praetors, suicidal-like, at the Fallen lines. They were charging head first at the two Wyverns, and despite himself Aatrox found the sudden urge to reach out and grab those two idiots back. But no… they were…colliding? No, _merging_.

The bright golden light that began to emanate from them forced Aatrox to raise a hand over his eyes; and just in time, too, he blocked a blow with his gauntlet. The Fallen frontline had to look away as the light got too bright. Agitated, the two Wyverns began to growl and opened their maws. Even without looking, Aatrox could tell that green-black balls of fire were gathering in the back of the beasts' throats. Surely, the stupid Praetors would be baked…

But no. He smelled burning ozone and backed away instinctively as the Praetors disappeared completely into a ball of golden light, energy crackling around it. Confused, the frontline Fallen backed away while the two monstrosities paced in place, indecisive. Somewhere within the enemy formation people were shouting; probably the veteran Queenblades- they must have seen these things before. There were orders to attack. There were screams to run first and ask questions later. Amidst the confusion, Aatrox slayed his attacker and stepped over its corpse, not believing that Syndra was indeed resorting to this tactic now. The light dimmed for one moment, confirming his suspicions.

The ground imploded, startling the Wyverns which both promptly took off as they snarled at the hole in the earth and breathed fire down on the mass of golden light. One massive hand made of ethereal energy in white armor shot from the hole and grabbed the first Wyvern by the tail, dragging it down. The shriek the Shadow beast let out threatened to burst his eardrums; others were clutching their heads, some of the enemy Battle Magi were on their knees, holding bloodied hands to their ears.

Aatrox turned and flew back to friendly lines as chaos began breaking out along the Fallen formation at this strange new enemy that was easily subduing a full-grown Shadow beast. Terrible, magnificent arcane creatures forged from the very souls of two Praetors; Archons were beings of pure energy, and thus possessed virtually unlimited destructive potential- banned in war only because they expired quickly, losing two Praetors the Great Beyond forever, and also, they were often a maelstrom of destruction, tending to sometimes _by accident_ killing friendly units. Apparently, Syndra had reached her wit's end to have ordered her Praetors into using this suicidal tactic. The terror of ravaging Inquisitors were little compared to the sheer presence a single Archon commanded on the fields, especially against low-grade troops like Battle Magi and Queenblades. Even as he watched the Archon wrestle with the monstrosity twice its size, its light was beginning to dim ever so slightly. He met with a standing and utterly-drained Syndra, then gave her a questioning look, one eyebrow arched for the desperate tactic she was using.

She was too tired to be angry. Two Praetors' lives? Perhaps it was too extreme?

…

But it was working.

Screeching, the Wyvern bit the head of the levitating Archon, only to jerk away as its jowl was set ablaze and melted away. Two cerulean eyes on a head of pure gold energy, lightning crackled from its massive body; adorned by a gigantic chest metal chest plate made of a material not native to this realm. It hovered mid-air, punching _through_ the Wyvern as the beast let out a dying shriek, before its insides began burning and the embers fell from the withdrawing grasps of the golden titan. The second Wyvern took step back, hesitant, eyes narrowed to slits, as it finally realized that its comrade had just been disemboweled by this new adversary.

Bolts of purple mage fire began bombarding the Archon from the scattered Fallen; but its energy shields easily held and the blasts dissipated on its face and chest without giving it a pause. Annoyed, however, at the ticklish sensations, the massive being turned a single hand on the masses of Queenblades running every which way in the distance and unleashed a single, devastating bolt of lightning that promptly incinerated the squadron-strength group. As if the gods were granting the defenders an added bonus, the last reaches of the lightning bolt blasted the final Nether Gate, cancelling the latest wave of Fallen mid-warp and sending them right back to wherever they came from.

Perhaps suddenly realizing that they were too deep in enemy territory now without backup, the enemy began to run headlong _out_ of the Square. The Archon stared at its opponent as if waiting for it to make a move. Aatrox also stared, allowing himself a bemused smirk as the Shadow Wyvern continued pacing back and forth in place, as if it had a mental connection with a Magi and now that it's Master was dead, and it lost function and could only sit and watch as the enemy chased its owners out of the square. The dumb beast did not notice that its masters were leaving it behind- or if it did it gave no notice of it- and eventually opted for pouncing on the armored titan before it.

When they realized that the tide of the battle had turned, the scattered Sefiro formed up behind the vanguard of a single rather loud-mouthed Justicar and began promptly giving chase to the hastily retreating Fallen. Heaving a huge relieved sigh, Aatrox brandished his sword once more as he rose into the skies, drawing out the blood of every dead creature on the battlefield to empower his blade and give himself immense stores of energy as he spread his wings to their full span, readying to give pursuit to the fleeing invaders. Before he could launch himself headfirst at the enemy, however, another massive, earth-shattering rumble shook the entire battlefield. Heck, to Aatrox it felt like it had shaken the entire _city_.

Every heads turned to the source of the sound and; there. There it was. A single point of light. Purple in color. Hovering in the air just so. About twenty meters off the ground. The point, already small as it was, turned even smaller, into a pinprick of light… as if it was being sucked into itself.

 _Too late_. Aatrox immediately realized what was going on and attempted to scream above the confused din of soldiers from both sides to order his troops to retreat, but the huge _whoosh!_ of the portal as it collapsed unto itself to then spawn a massive Nether Gate drowned out his call of warning, and a ginormous 20-feet wide black void spawned into existence right above the square. A large, dust raising _thud!_ caused all heads to turn towards the Archon once again; the dead Wyvern gave one final twitch as its torso began disintegrating beneath the fiery touch of the golden titan, but despite that victory something deep within Aatrox told him that whatever _it_ was that Syndra did, she would be about to need to do a lot more of _it_.

Something, no, wait, _several_ something, like tiny pinpricks of light, began showing on the Nether Gate. It was almost like there were people walking towards them from the end of some long, long tunnel.

 _Shit._

Aatrox thought and attempted to raise his voice to once again warn his troops; the Sefiro band that had charged ahead to give chase to the enemy were right underneath the warp gate, and the disrupted formations of enemy Fallen were quickly regrouping as they seek to trap the Justicars in a pincer with the remnants of their own forces. But once again, his voice was drowned out by a massive roar as an absolutely massive, and it was _really_ massive, it was huge, it was ginormous, it was another Shadow Wyvern, but not just any Shadow Wyvern. This monster was easily ten times the size of the one that the Archon had just felled. It was so big that only its head fitted through the warp gate, but if its snout was already larger than the Archon below it, Aatrox dared not think what its full length would be like.

The Archon showed no hesitation, however, as it proceeded to launch itself right at the new enemy, perhaps thinking that it would just punch its way through the beast's face like the last time. The Wyvern literally opened its mouth and swallowed the Archon whole.

And just like that, the golden titan was gone.

…

A flash of light blinded everyone for a moment, and although he could not see Aatrox dared to pray that perhaps the Archon had exploded inside the beast's throat, thus destroying it. But his hope died the moment his eyes recovered enough to realize that the blinding light was not golden, but _purple_.

When he was able to look again, the Wyvern was gone.

Hovering more than a dozen feet above the ground in its place was a little girl, in a midnight black tunic with the finest embroidery he had seen in all his years on Aerilion, wearing a diamond-studded tiara and the most beautiful, innocent smile he had ever seen on anyone on _and_ off the battlefields. It took him a long moment to realize that the girl _was_ the Wyvern.

 _By the will of the Judicator, it cannot be._

Dark Lady Ayla the Sixth let herself levitate down to the ground as the silhouettes of a hundred Imperial Battle Magi began warping in at her back, eyes slightly narrowing as she focused on the immense sword-wielding warrior flying above her and a slightly-bedraggled, but still regal-looking female mage off in the distance.

 _Guardians by the look of it_ ,Li muttered through their telepathic link. _The rest are being prepped for warp-in as we speak._

 _Thank you_ , she thought back, adding a mental smile with her message.

 _Will you need the reserves, my lady?_ Li asked. In response, Ayla giggled. With eleven more legions of Imperial Battle Magi on the way, she would outnumber these Sefiro at least ten to one. Not once during the long, arduous campaign for Irongate had she had to call in the combined arms reserves consisting of Shadow Wyverns, Spectral Riders, Queenblades and Battle Magi, and the Empress was not about to do it now. As the warp-in completed, Ayla took a deep breath and rose to her full diminutive height; Li had insisted on boots if she was so adamant about going to the front, but she had whined about wanting her heels and he had- eventually, as always- relented. As the main forces fought their way through Irongate street by street she had had a verbal- but light hearted- argument with Li on whether she should wear her Imperial Crown or whether just opting for the simple, but still beautiful tiara. Li had insisted on the tiara, and she had for once relented.

Ayla sometimes liked to think she was indulging Li's childish tendencies, when the truth of the matter was the other way around. But still, more important matters had been looming, and so she thought no further of that.

At their back, a group of Sefiro stood, swords ready, spears leveled, shields held high, and eyes utterly filled with determination. As the pincer completed, completely separating the main force from the rest of the shattered remnants of the Sefiro rearguard, Ayla shot the two Guardians one happy look, before conjuring another Nether Gate that utterly swallowed the whole group of astonished Justicars before any protest could be voiced. Not that she would have listened; only her word mattered, anyways.

 _Another_ flick of the wrist; seven wizard towers made of ethereal energy rose out of the very air and her elite mages flew to each one, taking up positions quickly as the rest of the previously-retreating troops caught up and joined formations with her legions. They now outnumbered the enemy a hundred to one.

But it was not enough.

A flick of the wrist, _another_ portal, and out stepped Li, or rather, the Li she was currently willing into form; and that form was another Wyvern, but snow-white, for it was an Ice Wyvern. Her last trip to Northpass had yielded some fond memories; riding Ice Wyvern Li over the fortresses of the terrified Sefiro was the stuff happy memories were made of.

Li snorted and snowflakes shot out of his nostrils. Ayla had to stifle a giggle; she found it rather adorable. But she had to behave- if only a little- in front of the troops. And so she did not giggle, instead putting on her 'battle face', which Li just said was her typical look when breakfast in the Castle was late by two minutes and she pouted and began demanding a ride on his back for no good reasons and started randomly ordering the executions of the blameless kitchen staff.

Ayla still put on her 'battle face' anyways, as she turned to the Guardians and put on her 'stern' voice.

'You! Hey!'

Silence met her words. Ayla resisted the urge to place her hand on her hips; Li said it was unbecoming of an Empress to act like an eleven-year-old girl. _But I am an eleven-year-old girl!_ was her retort then. He had simply sighed and hunched over like he usually did when she was being a kid and he was acting all dead inside and cute and whatever.

'I am here to take over this city!'

The lady mage shot her an incredulous look. Ayla smiled at that. She had a nice crown. _Nothing like my beautiful tiara though, hah!_

'And why would we let you do that?', the male Guardian asked, his massive sword not missing her eye; it was blood-encrusted. Probably the big bad man had run it through plenty of her own folks. It made her a little sad. A frown found its way onto the Empress's face.

Dark Lady Ayla the Sixth did not like being sad.

She only liked happy.

And happy meant she got her way with everything.

Her loyal troops noticed it before she did.

With a blood-curling scream the female Guardian willed many, many golden orbs into existence around her and thrust her arm right at Ayla, causing all of the spheres to rush at the Dark Lady. In the millisecond it took for the destructive balls of energy to impact with their target and kill her instantly, Ayla had the presence of mind to think that really, these people didn't get any wiser with time and, really, she was tiring of this game already.

Her Imperial Battle Magi did not even have time to throw themselves in front of their Empress. There was just no time.

 _Not that it would have mattered._

The barrage of destruction bounced harmlessly off her swiftly conjured Black Shield, with the consistency not so unfamiliar from those of balloons hitting against one another when they were tied in a bunch. As the energy spheres fizzled and died out around her feet, Ayla huffed in pretend-anger at Syndra and willed Li into becoming a Dark Archon. The smell of burning ozone made everyone scrunch up their noses in annoyance, and Ayla gave herself permission to get out of this dreadful place back to somewhere where there were free-flowing bacon and eggs and maybe not-ozone.

 _Heck. I'm Empress, I can do what I like, hah!_

Opening a portal for herself back to her Castle, Ayla shot the two astonished Guardians one last bemused look.

She was tempted to curtsy; but Li had warned her before that a Dark Lady, no matter how jolly and frivolous, _and young_ , he had added, does not by any mean curtsy to the enemy.

And so she did not curtsy.

Instead, she grinned a wicked grin, although on her young, innocent visage it looked more cute than wicked. Ayla utterly failed when trying to look mean; one of the things Li found so happy about. The last warp-ins completed and a thousand Imperial Battle Magi stood ready, eyes turning purple with arcane forces as they prepared to face down the two Guardians. Aatrox and Syndra looked at her like she was crazy; Ayla noticed that they looked more surprised than scared. _Interesting_.

'Surrender!', she crooned as she spread her arms wide, 'or die!'

Their eyes only widened even further, if that was possible. It reminded Ayla of the big saucers at the tea table back in the Castle and she began giggling uncontrollably to the confusion of her Battle Mages.

Stepping into her portal, she smiled and gestured her Magi forward with a casual flick of the wrist.

'Kill them.'

'Kill them all.'

(break)

Fourteen Praetors began merging, out of sight of the enemy Fallen, as soon as their Dark Lady warped out of the battlefield. Soon, seven pairs of hands began clawing their way out of the ground. The Archons patiently waited behind the jumbled mass of old and young, and lightly-injured troops.

Power was palpable in the very air.

The assembled Justicars withdrew their blades and turned their eyes to their leaders. Josephus Kayle gave his wife a strained, but reassuring smile, then raised his own spear and turned his head to the defenders as he got ready to lead them charging into Victory Square.

They were all grim. They were all exhausted.

But they were all ready to fight to the death to defend _their_ city.

Taking last one breath to steel himself, the Guardian turned his gaze on the massive purple abomination of an Archon that was rearing itself to obliterate Aatrox and Syndra.

Magic amplified his voice, and his battlecry was heard all across the field as the Sefiro bathed his weapon in divine fire and lunged at an astonished squadron of Battle Magi.

'Into the fray!', he roared.

(break)

 **S.v's note to readers: A lovely friend of mine (Six) brought it to my attention that On Tattered Wings has not been about the main character morgAna for the longest time now, and has been somewhat more of like 'Adventures of random folks in Aerilion'. And it's true. I admit to writing completely with no plans whatsoever hohoho. There are two ways the plot is impacted. One, and the only one so far, is me writing off my emotions; I'm happy the chapter is cute and fluff. I'm upset someone get raped, someone dies, or something along those bleak, sad lines. The second way; reviews. I have practically zero reviews. There is no feedback. No opinions. So if you want to shape this world, do leave a comment. Thanks folks. I update weekly so… until next week. Kekeke. Oh and, I got demoted from Gold2 to Gold4 D: why is it so hard to climb when you main support ;-;. If you ADC on Garena add me at 'support velkoz'. :3**


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